#Seniors Funeral Costs

[tessansgp]

Widow of fallen Buffalo Firefighter files notice of claim against city and fire department [Video]

#FuneralExpenses #FuneralCosts #FuneralPlanning #FuneralService #SeniorsFuneralCosts #Funeral Expenses #Funeral Costs #Funeral Planning #Funeral Service #Seniors Funeral Costs

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I’m (maybe?) almost done with a Théodred story I’ve been working on for a long time and, in looking back over some of my notes about his canon life, I couldn’t help clocking the many similarities between his experiences and those of LOTR’s other first son of a kingdom of men, Boromir. It’s not super relevant to my story, but I ended up with this running list and I’m just sticking it here because why not. None of this is groundbreaking stuff (and there are probably more) but so far I have that Théodred and Boromir both:

1. Were heirs to the leadership of their respective realms and held their land’s senior military positions (Second Marshal for Théodred—there being no First Marshal at the time—and Captain of the White Tower for Boromir).

2. Lost their mothers early (Théodred at birth and Boromir at age 10) and grew up in households run entirely by powerful fathers who never remarried.

3. Ended up taking on dangerous challenges at least in part because those fathers were both having their reason and good judgment manipulated by opponents (Théoden through the treachery of Gríma/Saruman and Denethor by the selective truths shown to him by Sauron in the palantír).

4. Got killed in a battle where their opponents were targeting them to the exclusion of others around them (Saruman’s forces at the Isen were told to kill Théodred at all costs even while “disregarding” others, and the orcs at Parth Galen fire their arrows “always at Boromir” while leaving Merry and Pip untouched).

5. Were trying to summon aid at the time they were struck down (Théodred is shouting “To me, Eorlingas!” to summon reinforcements when he’s fatally wounded. Boromir blows his great horn to alert the rest of the fellowship before he’s brought down).

6. Took massive injuries but lived long enough afterward to pass on last words in which they invoke the names of the men who will come to replace them as leaders and express the hope that those next leaders will achieve victory (Elfhelm and Grimbold believe Théodred is dead before they discover he’s still breathing just enough to say, “Let me lie here to keep the fords til Éomer comes.” Boromir, as we all know, lays there with those arrows in his chest long enough to be found by Aragorn, at which point he says, “Farewell, Aragorn. Go to Minas Tirith and save my people.”).

7. Died within hours of each other (Théodred on the night on February 25 and Boromir around midday on the 26) at the same age of 41 because, oh yeah, they were also born within months of each other.

8. Didn’t get a burial/funeral in keeping with their status and the traditions of their people because they died in awful circumstances far from home (Théodred dies and is buried by Elfhelm and Grimbold’s companies at the fords rather than in the barrows outside of Edoras with his ancestors. Boromir is sent over the falls by the three hunters instead of laying in Rath Dínen with the other kings and stewards of Gondor).

9. Mentored and protected little brother-type figures (Faramir as Boromir’s actual little brother and Éomer as Théodred’s cousin/adopted little bro) who would go on to achieve what they were unable to do themselves while alive.

10. Died unmarried and childless despite being extremely marriageable, in the primes of their lives and presumably expected to produce another heir. (There’s an explanation given for Boromir—he’s not into women and prefers fighting and arms—though there is none for Théodred.) (Like many other people, I have my own personal HC for Théodred’s romantic life, but that’s for another day.)

I’m not sure what to make of all that, but I find it interesting. We hear so often about contrasts between Gondor and Rohan—the different histories and heritages, the personality of cold, hard Denethor against kindly, grandfatherly Théoden, the magisterial stone and marble of Minas Tirith versus the rustic wood and thatch of Edoras, Gondor’s vast libraries and the Rohirrim’s oral traditions—but they’re so deeply linked as kingdoms and as individuals. By fate and by choice, they’re inextricably tied together, and I love the amount of detail that went into creating and including the subtle parallels between the first sons of each land as just one more way to see those ties play out.

[scilessweetheart]

quotes from my senior year lit class’s modern adaptation of hamlet (titled “keeping up with hamlet”) that only get funnier the longer they sit in my brain

“how are you doing?” “oh, you know. same soup, just reheated, baby!” - hamlet, pulling a monster energy drink out of an industrial sized fridge

“polonius! why’d you stand under my copy of the atlantic?” -hamlet, after beating him to death

*snorts a line of coke and then introduces herself* - gertrude

*tagline in asides is “feels super awkward”* - hortatio

“listen to me. hamlet’s a douchebag!” - laertes

*played by a 6 foot man with a thot knot and a scrunchie* - ophelia

“he gave me his favorite monster tab necklace! plus, he’s an aries and i’m a libra. we’re a match. i even checked his natal chart.” - ophelia

“women! they’re so caught up in things. they don’t even know about the stock market. it just… it saddens me.” - polonius

*reading texts from hamlet to ophelia* “‘ophelia. i love you. i dream of smelling your skin when you sleep. if you don’t love me i will kill myself.’ you know. some real criminal minds shit.” - polonius

“life’s a prison and you’re my cell mate, guildencrantz!” - hamlet

“hey hamlet, what are you doing?” “watching the… moving pictures. have you ever seen one?” “…. you mean a movie? the tvs not even on.” - polonius and hamlet

“ophelia! you stay here and read this fanfiction. he’ll think you’re all alone.” - gertrude

*hamlet starts his famous monologue* “not this emo shit again” - polonius

“please just take your monster tab necklace back… it’s sticky.” - ophelia

“hah! that stain on the couch looks like a camel.” - hamlet

“i’m actually sending hamlet to [rival school] to be put to death. that way he’ll stop being such a little dickhead.” - claudius

“look at these two men! this is claudius and this is your husband!” *holds up a picture of handsome squidward and willy shakes* - hamlet

“great i’m going to have to kill you. this is my mob, by the way.” - laertes

“here lies the poor, dead, super dead, ophelia.” “babe! no! babe! aw fuck, the fair ophelia!” - hamlet at the funeral

“funeral costs are so expensive. *to the camera guy* how much are the royalties on this?” - horatio

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Private equity finally delivered Sarah Palin's death panels

Tonight (Apr 26), I’ll be in Burbank, signing Red Team Blues at Dark Delicacies at 6PM.

Remember “death panels”? Sarah Palin promised us that universal healthcare was a prelude to a Stalinist nightmare in which unaccountable bureaucrats decided who lived or died based on a cost-benefit analysis of what it would cost to keep you alive versus how much your life was worth.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Palin was right that any kind of healthcare rationing runs the risk of this kind of calculus, where we weight spending $10,000 to extend a young, healthy person’s life by 40 years against $1,000 to extend an elderly, disabled person’s life by a mere two years.

It’s a ghastly, nightmarish prospect — as anyone who uses the private healthcare system knows very well. More than 27m Americans have no health insurance, and millions more have been tricked into buying scam “cost-sharing” systems run by evangelical grifters:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/02/health/christian-health-care-insurance.html

But for the millions of Americans with insurance, death panels are an everyday occurrence, or at least a lurking concern. Anyone who pays attention knows that insurers have entire departments designed to mass-reject legitimate claims and stall patients who demand that the insurer lives up to its claim:

https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/khn-podcast-an-arm-and-a-leg-how-to-shop-for-health-insurance-november-24-2021/

The private healthcare sector is designed to deny care. Its first duty is to its shareholders, not its patients, and every dollar spent on care is a dollar not available for dividends. The ideal insurance customer pays their premiums without complaint, and then pays cash for all their care on top of it.

All that was true even before private equity started buying up and merging whole swathes of the US healthcare system (or “healthcare” “system”). The PE playbook — slash wages, sell off physical plant, slash wages, reduce quality and raise prices — works in part because of its scale. These aren’t the usual economies of scale. Rather the PE strategy is to buy and merge all the similar businesses in a region, so customers, suppliers and workers have nowhere else to turn.

That’s bad enough when it’s aimed at funeral homes, pet groomers or any of the other sectors that have been bigfooted by PE:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

But it’s especially grave when applied to hospitals:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/21/profitable-butchers/#looted

Or emergency room physicians:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/14/unhealthy-finances/#steins-law

And if you think that’s a capitalist hellscape nightmare, just imagine how PE deals with dying, elderly people. Yes, PE has transformed the hospice industry, and it’s even worse than you imagine.

Yesterday, the Center for Economic and Policy Research published “Preying on the Dying: Private Equity Gets Rich in Hospice Care,” written by some of the nation’s most valiant PE slayers: Eileen Appelbaum, Rosemary Batt and Emma Curchin:

https://cepr.net/report/preying-on-the-dying-private-equity-gets-rich-in-hospice-care/

Medicare pays private hospices $203-$1,462 per day to take care of dying old people — seniors that a doctor has certified to have less than six months left. That comes to $22.4b/year in public transfers to private hospices. If hospices that $1,462 day-rate, they have lots of duties, like providing eight hours’ worth of home care. But if the hospice is content to take the $203/day rate, they are not required to do anything. Literally. It’s just free money for whatever the operator feels like doing for a dying elderly person, including doing nothing at all.

As Appelbaum told Maureen Tkacik for her excellent writeup in The American Prospect: “Why anybody commits fraud is a mystery to me, because you can make so much money playing within the guidelines the way the payment scheme operates.”

https://prospect.org/health/2023-04-26-born-to-die-hospice-care/

In California, it’s very, very easy to set up a hospice. Pay $3,000, fill in some paperwork (or don’t — no one checks it, ever), and you’re ready to start caring for beloved parents, grandparents, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles as they depart this world. You do get a site inspection, but don’t worry — you aren’t required to bring your site up to code until after you’re licensed, and again, they never check — not even if there are multiple complaints. After all, no one at the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) has the job of tracking complaints.

This is absolute catnip for private equity — free government money, no obligations, no enforcement, and the people you harm are literally dying and can’t complain. What’s not to like? No wonder PE companies have spent billions “rolling up” hospices across the country. There are 591 hospices in Van Nuys, CA alone — but at least 30 of them share a single medical director:

https://auditor.ca.gov/reports/2021-123/index.html#pg34A

Medicare caps per-patient dispersals at $32,000, which presents an interesting commercial question for remorseless, paperclip-maximizing, grandparent-devouring private equity ghouls: do you take in sick patients (who cost more, but die sooner) or healthy patients (cost less, potentially live longer)?

In Van Nuys, the strategy is to bring in healthy patients and do nothing. 51% of Van Nuys hospice patients are “live discharged” — that is, they don’t die. This figure — triple the national average — is “a reliable sign of fraud.”

There are so many hospice scams and most of them are so stupid that it takes a monumental failure of oversight not to catch and prevent them. Here’s a goodun: hospices bribe doctors to “admit” patients to a hospice without their knowledge. The hospice bills for the patient, but otherwise has no contact with them. This can go on for a long time, until the patient tries to visit the doctor and discovers that their Medicare has been canceled (you lose your Medicare once you go into hospice).

Another scam: offer patients the loosest narcotics policy in town, promising all the opioids they want. Then, once their benefits expire, let them die of an overdose (don’t worry, people who die in hospice don’t get autopsies):

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/12/05/how-hospice-became-a-for-profit-hustle

You can hire con artists to serve as your sales-force, and have them talk vulnerable, elderly people into enrolling in hospice care by convincing them they have nothing to live for and should just die already and not burden their loved ones any longer.

Hospitals and hospices also collude: hospitals can revive dying patients, ignoring their Do Not Resuscitate orders, so they can be transfered to a hospice and die there, saving the hospital from adding another dead patient to their stats.CMS’s solution is perverse: they’re working with Humana to expand Medicare Advantage (a scam that convinces patients to give up Medicare and enrol in a private insurance program, whose private-sector death panel rejects 13% of claims that Medicare would have paid for). The program will pay private companies $32,000 for every patient who agrees to cease care and die. As our friends on the right like to say, “incentives matter.”

Appelbaum and co have a better idea:

Do more enforcement: increase inspections and audits.

Block mergers and rollups of hospices that make them too big to fail and too big to jail.

Close existing loopholes.

They should know. Appelbaum and her co-authors write the best, most incisive analysis of private equity around. For more of their work, check out their proposal for ending pension-plan ripoffs by Wall Street firms:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/05/mego/#A09948

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Burbank, Mountain View, Berkeley, San Francisco, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: An industrial meat grinder, fed by a conveyor belt. A dead, elderly man is traveling up the conveyor, headed for the grinder's intake. The grinder is labelled 'HOSPICE' in drippy Hallowe'en lettering. It sits in a spreading pool of blood.]

Image: Seydelmann (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpghttps://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[meet-me-backstage]

⎈

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 ⎈ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🦇 Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🦇 You get dragged into the unfathomable events at Starcourt Mall by your hopeless crush on Billy Hargrove and new-found middle-schooler friends. You struggle to cope with the trauma which gradually costs you your popular cheerleader reputation when you return to high school for senior year. Though this loss first appears to be the end of the world, you learn that there's worse things than levelling down in popularity.

Though even in darkness, there is always a light - for you this is Eddie Munson, who you gain an unlikely friendship in and fall for him in the process.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🦇 smoking, mention of and consumption of drugs, horror themes, violence (in the upside down and probs Steve losing another fight (•̀ᴗ•́)و jk jk he's king), nightmares, mention of and consumption of alcohol, mention of and a near death experience, death, bad language, blood, bullying, mention of vomit and vomiting, some domestic (mainly verbal and emotional) abuse(‼️), mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of suicide, mention of self-harm, allusion to eating disorder and smUUT so you have to be 18+ to read this series❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 🦇 4.6K words.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 🦇 horror themes, nightmares, death, violence, domestic (physical) abuse, blood, mention of and consumption of alcohol and bad language.

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ⎈ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫

You ceased contact with your new friends Max, Eleven, Lucas, Mike, Will, Dustin, Steve, Robin, Jonathan and Nancy after your dismissal from hospital and being back into the inescapable grasp of your mom.

Max had visited you in hospital, even leaving a bundle of candy on the side-table for when you’d wake up. Your mom saw the candy and threw it in the trash while you had been asleep.

Your mom continued to search for Rebecca because no bodies had been recovered in the mall fire. She searched even after Rebecca's funeral and the memorial service for all of those who had gone missing since the Fourth of July, assumed dead.

You refused to speak to anybody at the funeral and memorial service... you also refused to leave your room afterwards and planned on staying in there for the foreseeable future. It had been the sadness, anger you felt, but mainly the suppression of knowing the way that your sister, your dad, Billy and all the victims had died a unfathomable death, and not being able to talk about it.

It was eating you alive...

🦇 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓 🦇

"B-eckyy," you tiredly slur.

You wander the dimly lit streets of Hawkins in search of Rebecca and your dad. You’re wearing what looks like Max's raincoat, the yellow one that she was wearing the day that you met her.

With tears streaming down your cheeks and your vision blurry because of your eyes being so sore, you still notice the small particles in the air that look like dust... they are hard to miss and appeared in many of your visions ever since the first you ever had after Starcourt, in the hospital.

They float away from you, the particles, so you decide to follow them after moments of just examining them with an intrigued expression on your face... it’s like they are guiding you and you feel a pull, like a rope tightly tied around your waist is tugging you in the direction they are going - you let them, thinking they'd lead you to Rebecca and your dad.

It’s so dark - everywhere and everything is a dull blue on the way to the trailer park.

You can hear a hushed voice amongst the whooshing and spirals of wind, your head and eyes frantically move from side to side until you see Rebecca stood at a phone box... she is trying to make a call, you assumed to either your mom or dad because she is all alone and wearing the same clothes from the night that she went out searching for you.

You stop in your tracks to watch her, your heart sinking at how terrified she looks... then you notice a figure appear, walking towards her and she doesn't notice because she is looking the other way, holding the telephone against her ear.

"Be-hindd - you," you mumble, your lips trembling.

It's your dad, you realise - but his presence feels different as he strides towards Rebecca, goosebumps form on your neck, causing your eyes to widen and you try to shout for her only for nothing to come out... like you are being controlled.

You’re forced to just watch as she turns and notices him, relief written all over her face as she exhales, lowering the phone but still holding it, "Jeez, dad - you scared me... have you any idea how long I've been waiting here, it's like - three in the morning and I was trying to call mom," she rambles, distressed under his gaze as he silently continues walking towards her, his appearance more rugged than usual, "Anyway - w-was there any sign of  - her?"

Even though you know that she hated you and you hated her... you struggle to watch her with this horrible feeling that the reason why your dad had taken so long was because he'd been flayed.

You fight whatever is controlling you and start sprinting towards her, only for the storm in the form of the Mind Flayer's tentacles to shoot towards you from behind your dad's walking figure... it physically stops me from moving by attaching itself to your wrist again, sinking deep into the scar that had been stitched up.

'You're going to watch, little miss thief.' The low, eery voice that had been lingering in the back of your head for weeks now.

"Like - hell I am!" You choke out and try to pull your wrist away, but you feel that piece of the mind flayer moving around inside you and it's way stronger, bigger than you... you cannot move no matter how hard you try to fight it.

"Are you okay, dad?" Rebecca asks, now concerned as your dad stays silent, "I know it's worrying - but we need to pull ourselves together and have hope that we're going to find her - we have to keep going-,"  Rebecca states boldly, but is trembling now as your dad is just metres away from her and not slowing down, "I don't know what mom's going to do to little miss when we find her or me if we don't find her... I'm so sorry for not seeing you more often dad, I will, I promise - once we find her."

"It's too late," your dad grumbles at her before snatching the telephone and immediately hitting her violently over the head with it, causing her temple to bleed.

You’d been letting out distressed and muffled noises, but witnessing your dad knocking Rebecca to the ground, it makes you scream at the top of your lungs, "Nooo!"

Suddenly your mouth is being impaled by another one of the tentacles even though it appears to only be raging air, like a tornado. You can’t close your mouth and your entire face is strained as you try to scream... all you can do is squint your eyes shut and refuse to look as tears manage to squeeze through and stream down your cheeks.

But you can still hear everything...

“Don't be afraid, Becky - look,” it's your dad, he must've been comforting her in her last moments, an arm around her or stroking her hair while she is on the floor, “it'll all be over and you won't have to worry about your silly little sister anymore.”

“D-dad - what - i-s... that?” You hear Rebecca ask weakly.

“It's the answer to the end of your suffering.”

You hear an all too familiar snarl of the fleshy Mind Flayer you’d fought in the mall - and then Rebecca's scream, making you scream with her because you don’t need to have your eyes open to know that Rebecca's face is being gripped onto by one of the tentacles, sucking the life out of her until... radio silence, pitched blackness.

You shoot up from your bed quickly, breathing heavily and frantically looking around... instead of witnessing Rebecca and your dad melting into a pile of flesh to merge into the Mind Flayer, you are in your dimly lit room... as if the entire event didn't happen. You pull your right arm from under the duvet and there it is... the stitches holding your wound together, gradually turning into a scar on your wrist.

It’s a constant reminder of what happened last month... one that didn't end like the funerals and memorials commemorating the lives lost at Starcourt, the mental bashings you’d get from your mom about how you’d killed Rebecca... no, it’s a scar in all senses of the word - it’s going to be with you every month, week, day, hour and second for the rest of your life.

The only way you thought you could escape was through sleep, that's why you’re sat up in bed right now at 7:08pm... but judging by the recurring dream you’d just had and been having since the battle at Starcourt, you couldn't even do that.

You grow restless, but you can’t even stand the disappointment of writing yet another letter that wouldn't be answered to Mason about your hurt, the pain of constant reminders, your spinning mind that made you feel dizzy all the time. Leaving your room, walking past Rebecca's untouched room, and then facing your mom was also not an option to pass the time... unless you wanted to hear her say for the millionth time: 'you did this, you tore my Becky away from me!'

No... I need some fresh air. I need to get out of this goddamn house right now.

You carefully climb out of your window in a red flannel shirt, long sleeved to cover your wrist. On your way down the drainpipe that runs down the house you fall, luckily into some bushes which cushion your fall... the mix of being stir crazy and feeling the cold night air hits you, catching you off guard... you realise that you had not left the house since Rebecca and your dad's funeral.

You run your fingers through the grass as you push yourself back onto your feet, looking around in momental wonder as if it’s your first time ever outside.

As you wander around the neighbourhood, purposefully avoiding the house that was once Heather's home... you are reminded of the reality that while you hurt and mourned over the loss you’d experienced, the world continued to spin... especially at the other side of town, where you hear the sound of distant music become louder as you choose to follow it.

Benny's Burgers. You look at the supposed abandoned place quizzically and start walking towards it.

Neon lights peek through the blinds and 'Kids In America' by Kim Wilde blares from the building. Your curiosity gets the better of you, you decide to look through a slit between the blinds... Patrick, Chance, Josh, Andy - all of the cheer and basketball team are in there... I should go, you think - until you hear a laugh, specifically Chrissy's laugh and immediately you see her cutting open a can of beer with a pocket knife.

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” They all chant around her.

Seeing them all laughing, drinking and dancing together is a reminder that the world of reality is spinning so fast that you can’t keep up... it feels like you’d been left behind and you couldn’t even talk to Chrissy about it, definitely not in front of them anyway...

They'd make fun of me, I couldn't show them this side of me, the struggling side because I had always been the weakest link of the lot of them. I need to get away, just a black hole I could jump into and disappear into a vortex.

The first void you spot is the woods opposite Benny's Burgers, so you decide to walk into it.

There are so many random noises, twigs snapping, owls tooting, the wind blowing through the branches of the trees... it is creepily comforting and distracts you from the deafening noise happening in your mind.

You look up at the sky, which you can hardly see because of the tops of the trees merging into one another and hardly leaving any gaps for the night sky to dimly shine through.

You can see some stars and the moon peeking through, instantly making you relax as you notice the slightly darker shades on it, the subtle twinkling of the stars... You keep your head up, failing to look in the direction you are walking until... you’re lost... and you’re not even scared, you see it as an opportunity to have a breakdown in peace and to collect twigs and stones, shoving them in your jeans.

You completely lean against the trunk of a tree and let yourself slide down it as little whimpers leave your lips... How am I going to get through this? How am I going to pretend that the way they died was normal, in a fire? Pfft. How will I be able to continue cheerleading if I can't cope? How can I go on and pretend I'm fine when all I can think about is my responsibility for the death of Becky and my dad? You cry.

You place your hands over your face, whimpering into them as your bum hits the ground. You stretch your legs out as much as you can, "Look at what you've done - I hate you, I hate you for everything that's happened... not even just this summer, the last few years - the strain you put on mom, dad and Becky... how could you... and Bill-y, you didn't try hard en-ough and now... now you've l-ost everything," you choke out, "I h-ate you- ow!" You feel pressure on your leg and quickly lower your hands.

"Shit!" It’s Eddie Munson, he'd just tripped over your legs... you know it’s him because he’s wearing the same old denim vest-jacket and has the skull patterned bandana dangling from his back-left pocket. You look at him in utter disbelief as he shakes his head, shaking the leaves out of his long hair while on all fours... your breathing must be so rapid and so loud that his head whips around to look at you, his eyes are wide and looking straight at you.

You both stare at each other for a while... you thought of running from him again… but where to? To my bed that didn't even give me comfort anymore? Fuck that, I'd rather him sacrifice me... if all of the cult bullcrap about Hellfire that Becky believed was true, "What, Munson?" You find myself asking with an attitude, trying to cover up your weakness, even though tears are still flowing from your eyes.

He collapses onto his stomach and scrambles around until he's facing you, about a metre and a half away, "I thought your legs were goddamn tree roots," he says in between staggered breaths.

You keep looking at him in complete shock, still rapidly breathing at the sight of him... Did he not hear me?

He rolls his eyes and visibly deflates in his demeanour, getting uncomfortable and you hear him mumble, "Look, you can run again if you want - or I can leave," he sighs, but as you continue to stay silent, he starts to stand himself back up, "Yup - I'm gonna... go - I'm getting a real bad case of deja vu right now."

You watch him as he starts to walk away, still brushing leaves off of his outfit, “w-wait." The crisp sound of his footsteps on the leaves stop and he half-turns, staying still and looking at you with one brow raised. "D-don't go," you find yourself whispering in a broken voice.

To say he looks concerned and weirded out by your behaviour is an understatement... he just silently sits himself down opposite you, fidgeting with his jeans and listening to your sniffles as you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt... he just listened to you crying... this must be so awkward for him, "I'm - sorry," you mumble.

"What for?" He asks, he'd had his head bowed down, but lifted it to look at you when you apologised.

You gesture at yourself and around you as you shake your head, "Just... this."

His mouth is agape for a few moments, "Oh - 's okay... I mean, it is a little weird, y’know... I'm sat here in the middle of the woods with one of the queens of Hawkins High," he states playfully and picks up a leaf, touching at it as if it’s a reminder that this is actually happening, and when he realises that it is he blows a loud puff of air out of his mouth, "This isn't exactly how I expected tonight would g-."

He doesn't want to be here - even he finds me unbearable, "So go then - go and make a couple bucks... you'll get plenty at Benny's Burgers,” you huff, rolling your very swollen eyes.

He lifts his hands in surrender, confused, "No - no... woah - what? I'm not out here for business - I just like the woods," he scratches the back of his and furrows his brows, "Thats not what I meant anyway - 's just... you ran away from me last time I tried to talk to you."

You look down now, refusing to make eye contact with him, "Yeah, well - maybe I'm too exhausted to run now," you retort, a hint of truth in your words which brings another flood of tears to your eyes... you try to hide the fact that your words had hit close to home and cover your face.

You hear him exhale and a slight shuffle of leaves, assuming he'd moved ever so slightly closer to you, "Do you wanna talk about it?" His voice is gentle, small, unsure, "I could even sit on the opposite side of the tree and it'd be like I'm not - even here," you look at him from in between your fingers as he waves his hands around in a way that suggests mystery.

You slowly bring your hands away from your face, the mascara that once had been on your eyelashes is probably smeared down your cheeks... no one has ever offered to listen... why was he doing this after the way I treated him? Why is he so eager? Why does he care so much?

He hunches his shoulders, clearly feeling defeated again by your silence and he stands himself up again, thinking he is leaving you alone with your thoughts, you bring your knees up to your chest and hug them into you tightly as you tuck your face into the space between your legs and chest.

You expect to hear Eddie's footsteps fading into the distance, but they don’t. Instead they circle the tree you are sat against and you hear him grunt, sitting himself on the other side of the tree, "W-what are y-," you mumble weakly.

"I heard you talking to yourself, m'kay - I mean, not what you said - I was kinda in my own world of... woods - stuff," a mix of him tapping his feet on the ground and twigs snapping can be heard, "I'm just gonna - sit here and if you wanna stay mute that's totally cool by me, but the only way you're gonna gain from whatever's going on here is if you... speak your mind - trust me, coming from the 'freak'... I know," he chuckles dryly, "Just pretend I'm not here - focus on yourself."

"B-but I know you're there, my brain isn't stupid," you state sassily.

"I know - that's not what I'm saying at all... I'm not even in the position to be calling you stupid, considering I failed senior year again," he sighs out, the back of his head thumping against the trunk of the tree.

"It sort of sounds like you ar-."

"Tink," the nickname slips out of his mouth quickly, hushing you... taking you back to the day you’d first met, how you both got along instantly, how he didn't judge you for not being the stereotypical ‘girly girl’, for not having many friends or listening to 'different' music… because he understood and was willing to listen... you hear him chuckle again, "Just try it ou-."

"You're not supposed - to be here, remember?"

"Sure - I'll shut up now, I promise... I do fidget a lot though, so just ignore tha-."

"Shhh!"

"M'kay," you hear the little smile on his face in his voice.

You exhale as you rest the back of your head against the tree too, you notice that your eyes are no longer watering up so much and you even have the tiniest smile on your face, only visible if looking through a microscope... you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to drown out the sound of Eddie tapping his fingers on his sneakers, "I'm just - so exhausted... not from actually doing anything. It's my mind... it's constantly awake - even when I'm asleep and I'm forced to listen to it tell me horrible things like...," you hush suddenly, almost blurting out your knowledge of the other side of Hawkins you’d had the 'pleasure' of finding out about, "Like - I should h-ave been the one in the - mall fire instead of m-y - sister - my d-dad," you sniffle, the waterworks behind your eyes flowing again, the truth in your words scaring you, "This is so stupid," you hesitantly giggle.

Silence... like Eddie had promised you.

You sigh, "I feel like I've been lying to myself ever since I started high school and now, having experienced the harsh reality of this cruel world, I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't even recognise myself in the mirror... and if I c-can't even do that - how am I supposed to cope with anything, let alone finish school without getting kicked off of the cheer team? How am I supposed to fit in?"

The words spill out of you rapidly like the tears did from your eyes, you almost forgot that you are practically back to back with Eddie Munson and aren’t running for the hills... you look to the side and around the tree, the only visible part of Eddie is his white sneakers.

"I - wish I could be carefree. A girl who - knows what she wants and strives for it because it is the only reason she needs," you sniffle and whimper out a giggle, "I'm terrified of who I am, Eddie."

More silence... you start to hysterically sob, furiously rubbing at your eyes.

Your sobs are so loud that the sound of Eddie rushing to my side is drowned out, "Shit," he whispers under his breathe before reaching behind him and pulling out the skull and crossbones bandana from his back pocket and holding it out to you, "Here."

You cautiously take it, making eye contact with him first before you wipe your tears with it.

The smell of the bandana is musky, kind of gross, but you don’t care right now, you bury your face into it as you cry.

"Y'know, I knew a girl once who was exactly like that - carefree, knew what she wanted... but most importantly, she was herself and she didn't give a shit about what the other kids thought of her... I thought she was cool as hell at that talent show and trust me, I don't say that lightly, especially when it comes to 'balls in laundry baskets'," he chuckles and you breathlessly giggle into his bandana before peeking at him, keeping the rest of your face covered, "You've gotta look after yourself more... say you wanna do something impulsive... do it - do what you wanna do and don’t you dare think about what other people might think of you... if you do more of that then you'll find yourself again in no time, I promise."

You believe every word that he utters, "You're - r-right," you sniffle, mumbling into his bandana.

His eyes are big, like he can’t believe what you’d just said, "I'm - what?"

You weakly giggle, "Believe it or not - I believe you," you smile shyly at him and he looks down, seeming flustered.

"Wow er - that was easy - I didn’t think you would - believe in me," he mumbles unsurely and bounces his leg up and down quickly as silence rises to the surface between you again... the thoughts in your head arise, all the thoughts you hadn’t been able to say out loud about the upside down, the Mind Flayer, the truth about the 'mall fire'... you had to keep them to yourself for as long as you live. "Can I er - drive you - home?"

You snap out of your mind suddenly, your hand balled into a fist with the bandana inside it, "Y-yes - but only because I - was getting myself - lost before you showed up," you hiccup.

He smiles toothily, "Sure," he keeps his hand to his side, but his fingers move as if they're trying to grasp something as you slowly stand yourself up, "The Munson Mobile is this way - not far."

I can’t believe this is happening... Becky would've killed me for even being near the guy, what would she have done if she'd found out I’d accepted a ride from him? You shake your head, trying to focus on the sound of the leaves crunching as you make your way out of the woods leading to the trailer park.

"Your chariot awaits," you hear Eddie's voice as he opens the passenger door of his van for you, but your eyes are fixed upon what was once your dad's trailer... it is probably now occupied by someone else, to ease the pain of that thought you squeeze the bandana in your hand and give Eddie a half-hearted smile.

"Thanks,” you mumble, climbing in - again, the smell is musky. He has logos of bands stuck almost everywhere and cassettes scattered on the floor.

"Sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting royalty," he playfully jokes as he hops into the van and is quick to switch on the engine, the music he'd been playing on his last ride suddenly blares through the speakers, "Jesus Christ!" He squeals and quickly turns it down via a small dial by the steering wheel, but it is still loud though, "Sorry about that!"

"What is it?!" Eddie takes his eyes away from the road as he drives chaotically out of the trailer park. You hold onto the handle on the door tightly, the other still subconsciously gripping the bandana, "The music, I mean!"

He raises his brows at you before looking ahead, "Dio - Rainbow In The Dark!" He bangs his head in time to the music and you look at him with wide eyes.

He sings to the song and taps on the steering wheel, still not looking much at the road. He looks at you... is the heating on... like really high? You look down, "It's wicked - I like it!"

"You do?!" He grins widely at you before squealing and swerving the car slightly to avoid a lamppost, he notices you staring ahead, wide eyed and gripping onto any handle you can find for dear life, "Sorry! Just shake it off - a bit like this!" He bobs his head more chaotically, like he doesn’t have any control over himself.

After you’d had a mini heart attack, you laugh hysterically at the adrenaline that resonated with you and do exactly what he told you to because it was what you wanted, you let yourself go and start head-banging to the beat of the song, every part of your body is moving in all different directions until beads of sweat linger on your face... and you notice that you are at the end of the neighbourhood as you look out of the passenger window.

"Oh - here - stop here!" You shout breathlessly and your body jolts forward as he suddenly slams his foot on the break of the van... you stare at him wide eyed again, your heart pounding.

Eddie just looks - proud, a grin from ear to ear, "There's the Tink I know."

Instead of hitting him for almost flinging you through the front window of his van, the shock and horror of that thought is overridden by the progress you made tonight... you smile from ear to ear too, the first genuine one since the Fourth of July... you hiccup upon realising that you are in Eddie Munson's van in your neighbourhood, "I'll - walk from here," you mumble softly as the song fades into silence.

Eddie frowns, looking down, "Are you sure? You've still got another like... five minute walk from here."

He knows where I live?

"Yes!" You blurt quickly and Eddie purses his lips, probably realising why you don’t want him to take you any further... you blink, feeling bad, "Thank you, Eddie - truly."

Eddie blinks now, looking down and shrugging, "'s no biggie." After undoing your seatbelt you hop out of the van, almost missing the step out and stumbling, but you manage to catch yourself... you still feel Eddie's eyes on you, the obvious sign being that the sound of tires screeching hasn’t invaded your ears yet, so you turn to fleetingly glance at him once more to give him a quiet 'goodbye'... but he has other ideas, "We've gotta stop meeting under the moonlight... in the woods, I'm starting to think you're a werewolf!"

You look from side to side, "shhhh - you dork!" You glare at him, but he flashes you another big and smug grin before looking down at your hand and speeding away in his van.

You look down at your hand... his bandana - you’re still holding it.

Crap.

⇝ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧 ⎈ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

@sadbitchfangirl @ali-r3n @hostedparties-and-starvedmybody @kores-mun-son-n-more

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

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⎈

[ingek73]

India archive reveals extent of ‘colonial loot’ in royal jewellery collection

File from India Office archive details how priceless items were extracted from colony as trophies of conquest

by David Pegg and Manisha Ganguly

Published: 14:00 Thursday, 06 April 2023

Five years ago, Buckingham Palace marked its summer opening with an exhibition celebrating the then Prince Charles’s 70th birthday with a display of his favourite pieces from the royal collection, Britain’s official trove of items connected to the monarchy. “The prince had a very, very strong hand in the selection,” the senior curator said.

Among the sculptures, paintings and other exhibits was a long gold girdle inlaid with 19 large emeralds once used by an Indian maharajah to decorate his horses. It was a curious choice to put into the exhibition in light of the violent means by which it had come into the hands of the royal family.

Emerald girdle of Maharaja Sher Singh, c 1840. Photograph: Royal Collection Trust / © His Majesty King Charles III 2023

As part of its Cost of the crown series, the Guardian has uncovered a remarkable 46-page file in the archives of the India Office, the government department that was responsible for Britain’s rule over the Indian subcontinent. It details an investigation, apparently commissioned by Queen Mary, the grandmother of Elizabeth II, into the imperial origins of her jewels.

The report, from 1912, explains how priceless pieces, including Charles’s emerald belt, were extracted from India as trophies of conquest and later given to Queen Victoria. The items described are now owned by the monarch as property of the British crown.

Plundered stones

To fully understand the context behind the jewels, and their place in India’s history, it was necessary to visit the archives.

A journal records a tour in 1837 of the Punjab area in north India by the society diarist Fanny Eden and her brother George, the governor general of the British Raj at the time. They visited Ranjit Singh, the maharajah in Lahore, who had signed a “treaty of friendship” with the British six years earlier.

The half-blind Singh wore few if any precious stones, Eden wrote in her journal, but his entourage was positively drowning in them. So plentiful were the maharajah’s gems that “he puts his very finest jewels on his horses, and the splendour of their harness and housings surpasses anything you can imagine,” she wrote. Eden later confided in her journal: “If ever we are allowed to plunder this kingdom, I shall go straight to their stables.”

Twelve years later, Singh’s youngest son and heir, Duleep, was forced to sign over the Punjab to the conquering forces of the British East India Company. As part of the conquest, the company did indeed plunder the horses’ emeralds, as well as Singh’s most precious stone, the legendary Koh-i-noor diamond.

The queen mother’s crown sits on top of the coffin during her funeral in 2002. Photograph: Dan Chung/The Guardian

Today, the Koh-i-noor sits in the crown of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, on display at the Tower of London, and it has become an emblem of Britain’s tortured relationship with its imperial history.

Anita Anand, a journalist and historian who co-wrote a book titled Koh-i-noor on the diamond, said it was “a beautiful and cold reminder of British supremacy during the Raj”, the period between 1858 and 1947 when India was ruled by the crown.

“Its facets reflect the fate of a boy king who was separated from his mother,” Anand said. The stone too was “taken far away from his home, recut and diminished”. Anand said: “That is not how India sees itself today.”

Buckingham Palace is plainly aware of the sensitivities surrounding looted artefacts. After the Indian government let it be known that for Camilla, the Queen Consort, to wear the Koh-i-noor at Charles’s coronation would elicit “painful memories of the colonial past”, the palace announced she would swap it for a less contentious diamond.

But, as was discovered by Queen Mary, the Koh-i-noor was not the only gem taken from Singh’s treasury to have found its way to the British monarchy.

Royal with a pearl necklace

Among the jewels identified in the document found by the Guardian is a “short necklace of four very large spinel rubies”, the largest of which is a 325.5-carat spinel that later came to be identified as the Timur ruby.

Its famous name is erroneous: research by the academic Susan Stronge in 1996 concluded it was probably never owned by Timur, a Mongol conquerer. And it is a spinel, a red stone similar to, but chemically distinct from, a ruby.

Elizabeth II was shown handling it in the 1969 BBC documentary Royal Family, and was clearly acquainted with the myths surrounding it. “The history, of course, is very fascinating. It belonged to so many kings of Persia and Mughal emperors, until Queen Victoria was sent it from India,” she observed.

The Timur ruby necklace, 1853. Photograph: Royal Collection Trust / © His Majesty King Charles III 2023

The queen was never pictured wearing the item. However, she may have worn another of the Lahore treasures, identified in the India Office report as “a pearl necklace consisting of 224 large pearls”.

In her 1987 study of royal jewellery, Leslie Field described “one of the Queen Mother’s most impressive two-row pearl necklaces … made from 222 pearls with a clasp of two magnificent rubies surrounded by diamonds that had originally belonged to the ruler of the Punjab” – almost certainly a reference to the same necklace.

The queen wearing pearls at the Royal Opera House in 2012. Photograph: AFP/Getty Images

In 2012, Elizabeth II attended a gala festival at the Royal Opera House in London to celebrate her diamond jubilee. Photographs showed her wearing a multi-string pearl necklace with a ruby clasp.

Were these Ranjit Singh’s pearls? There was speculation they may have been, though Buckingham Palace was unable to confirm either way.

Queen Mary’s interest appears to have been prompted by curiosity about the origin of some of her pearls rather than any moral concern about the manner in which they were obtained. But a Buckingham Palace spokesperson said slavery and colonialism were matters that “his Majesty takes profoundly seriously”.

Shashi Tharoor, formerly an undersecretary at the United Nations, and currently an MP in India, said: “We have finally entered an era where colonial loot and pillage is being recognised for what it really was, rather than being dressed up as the incidental spoils of some noble ‘civilising mission’.

“As we are seeing increasingly, the return of stolen property is always a good thing. Generations to come will wonder why it took civilised nations so long to do the right thing.”

[halflingcaravan]

The following is some 'ready made lore' for use with my TTRPG "Beta Maxx X", you can find the previous edition on Itch.io and a quick start on Exalted Funeral's website. The Ex-F version is the easiest paper copy you can get for Europe and the US (I'm in Australia so unless you love $30+ shipping costs, order there!). This section is about massive historical events that could be know around the galaxy, and could be used to help shape the level of dystopia or utopia in the game. Also note that these are written in the voice of unreliable narrators, which is deliberate to in-book dispel the idea that this is a 'Dry Dispassionate Historical Third Person Narrative'; these are going to be 'wrong' in the same way that what most people remember about Egypt, Rome, Ancient China, etc are probably wrong.

Historical Events

1312 Rebellion

The 1312 Rebellion was a heck of a thing, media from the time tells that after some brutal crackdowns by Pinnacle Corporation on Cephi-3 every existing worker union, all 1312 of them, on Cephi-3 joined together and staged a world-wide rebellion against the Corporation. They planned to destroy the corporate government, install a popular representative democracy, rewrite corporations law so that companies could only be owned by their own workers, and drastically reform the legal system as well. The Rebellion was successful in 27 days, and lasted for six years before Pinnacle helped fund and arm the Guild of Peacemakers to assassinate the entire leadership of the Rebellion, and begin a wider program of mass shootings of 1312 Members. It was another roughly eight years of terror after the assassinations began. Eventually, Pinnacle was able to reestablish the previous status quo and the Guild of Peacemakers became the police and military on Cephi-3. In the 400 years since, a number of 1312 Rebellions have appeared on different planets and some massive space stations; typically large corporations have immediately responded to a potential 1312 Rebellion with extensive propaganda, a high volume of targeted assassinations, and a large number of ‘disappearances’. 1312 is known to still be out there, and cells of 1312 members operate around the Galaxy. Their reading material has a tendency to appear in all sorts of strange corners of the Network, sometimes intrusively and other times buried in a ‘forgotten corner of some node’.

Arnaq 5

Arnaq 5 caused the founding of the Galactic Convention Against Technomagical Nuclear Weapons which is just bonkers considering the way nobody can get in the same room over standardising how you send plain text messages over the Galatic Network; how card can it be to unify 7,465 different written languages? Not trying. What happened? The Arnaq 5 War was brutal by every possible measure. The two largest corporations on Arnaq, Arnaq Industries and General Consolidated Arnaq, started one of their frequent minor turf wars over a small city in a remote corner of the planet but the unexpected happened. There was apparently an internal coup planned inside Arnaq Industries so when the Chair of Arnaq Industries left to meet with the President of Gen. Con. Arnaq a small fusion bomb had been smuggled into one of the vehicles and detonated destroying a building and killing most of the senior management of both corporations. The Managing Director of Innovation, Nillz J Browly, then seized Arnaq Industries and mobilised the corporation into a Total War posture. As the war became more intense, Browly decided to end the war as quickly as possible without caring about any consequence to the people or the planet of Arnaq. They ordered the use of the Polter-475, a massive fission bomb enhanced with extensive magic to stabilise a number of manufactured radioactive elements. While it was ostensibly launched at a battlefield, the blast radius and radiation radius were so large that a quarter of the third largest land mass on Arnaq was turned into a wasteland. Then the skeletons started appearing. These skeletons began walking out of the wasteland armed with blaster weapons (some worked and some did not) and into the nearby settlements indiscriminantly murdering regardless of their corporate affiliations. Slowly the wasteland expanded, behind the advance of the skeletons, and at that point the Convention was started, the planet of Arnaq abandoned, and some people speculate the Harvesters self-formed from the ruins left behind.

[henrypreppy]

Barrington Estates: Prologue

Barrington Estates is the gem of the tri-county area for gated living communities. It has everything a member of the upper echelons could want: large, beautiful houses; meticulously manicured landscapes; fantastic schools; and the exclusive Barrington Country Club to rub shoulders with the elite that all but govern the southeast from its private rooms and putting greens. Not many make it here without significant contributions to the HOA. Grant and Jennifer Dean, however, were one of the few exceptions.

The Dean family was one of the founding families of the club and community. They had the house on the hill that was envied by everyone. The late Donald Dean, grandfather of Grant Dean, made sure to keep it immaculate. It was a sort of slap in the face to Truman McMaster, the general manager of Barrington Country Club; the house on the hill—the one all the pictures and magazine spreads loved to showcase—was owned by the board member who opposed McMaster at every turn. Rumors abound regarding their feud. Some speculated it was a result of a business deal gone awry, others posited that they needed some form of drama to keep themselves entertained. Only Donald and Truman knew the truth of the matter, and now one half of that truth was buried with Donald.

Grant was not particularly familiar with Barrington Estates, his father, Don Junior, being the prodigal of the family. Junior let his father’s house at eighteen with a large sum to his name and spoke to his father only two years later when it was nearly gone and Grant was on the way. Junior refused to move back in to the estate, but was funneled money from Donald so that Grant may not have to bear the sins of his father. Junior, ever-bent on regaining what he had, drove his wife Therese away when he began selling drugs.

“I don’t care if Grant is at college!” Therese would scream again and again, “I don’t want to have that dangerous business near me or my son!” After many of such arguments, she filed for divorce and cut Junior off.

A year later, Junior’s hand was cut off for stealing five kilos from the wrong cartel. He didn’t die immediately, though he couldn’t clap as his son walked across the stage to graduate. Only a few short months later, his stump turned septic and the infection withered the rest of him away. Had he less pride, perhaps Junior could have lived. Nevertheless, Grant turned to his grandfather for assistance with the funeral costs—which was all-too-high for the all-too-low head count—and moved in with his grandfather, who died all-too-soon from the grief of having failed to save his only son.

Now, upon returning from their hasty honeymoon and keeping with his grandfather’s request to not cohabitate with his college sweetheart, Grant was helping Jennifer move in with him.

Jennifer was a curvy woman, the areas under which she calculated from the nudes she sent Grant in their senior year. She graduated with a degree in physics and landed a job as a teacher in a high school one district away. She was smart, witty, and had green eyes that seemed dull unless they were in the right light; her hair was a wavy dark brown butterfly cut that flowed just past her shoulder blades.

Grant, by contrast, was plain but not unattractive. He kept his black hair in a shaggy mop and had nice cheekbones covered by a short scraggly beard. His gangly appearance frequently made others think of him as a stoner, which seemed fitting for a political science graduate. Though, a stoner could have never kept up with the stress of his internship as an aide to the governor. So far, that was his only achievement of note, outside of getting to marry the nerdy firecracker, Jennifer.

Jennifer didn’t have much of her own to move in; she was barely out of college. Still, a beat pickup truck packed with boxes is bound to look out of place in Barrington. Jennifer barreled up the large circular driveway to the McMansion, the rusted sides of the old Ford a stark contrast to the immaculate ivory-colored pillars she pulled toward.

Grant had already emerged from the house, having heard the beater booming a mile away. The houses were spaced out well enough, but the sights and sounds certainly brought some attention. He glared at the rustled curtains that indicated they were being watched from neighbors’ windows. As Jennifer approached, he waved and jogged toward the truck to open the door for her.

“M’lady,” he snickered with equal parts irony and sincerity as he opened the driver side door.

“M’sir,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. She stepped out of the truck and slammed the door behind her. Stepping forward, her mild exasperation faded to a wide smile and then to a kiss for Grant.

Grant embraced her, and his hand drifted from her back to her ass as he attempted to go for more than a gentle peck.

Still smiling, she pushed him away playfully. “Babe, didn’t you say your neighbors are super nosy?”

“Yeah, but what are they going to say? We just got married.” Grant planted a kiss on her cheek before breaking the hug.

Jennifer chuckled lightly. “I’d at least like to wait before hearing them ask about kids, though. I can already hear some old heiress down the street: ‘I saw that hussy from the other side o’ town pull up in a rusted out truck and start trying to make love right on the concrete!’” She said mimicking an elderly raspy voice.

“The neighborhood is not like that. They’re older and they’re traditional, but we’re married. So, it’s fine. Either way, you live here now, and they can’t change that.” He pecked her again on the cheek and began leading her inside by the hand, a middle finger raised to the neighbor’s window with the other hand.

Jennifer gave another signature eye roll and followed Grant. “You’re ridiculous,” she chortled crossed the threshold. The large foyer opened before her, decorated with a combination of farmhouse and mid-century modern decor. “This…” she announced, hearing her own echo, “This is also ridiculous.”

“Yeah, my grandfather was a pretty wealthy dude, but not out of touch. He wasn’t stodgy or anything. Still feels weird with him gone,” Grant trailed off and sighed.

“You okay?” Jennifer asked.

“Things have just been moving too fast. Graduation, a funeral, a wedding, another funeral, and a honeymoon all in like four months.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she assured him. “We’ll get settled in and settle down for a moment.”

“I know. I just want to slow down for a bit. You just mentioned it, but can we hold off on baby talk. I know I’ll hear enough of it from the neighbors.” Grant suppressed a grin.

“There’s a smile. I knew you still had some wit in you,” Jennifer prodded. “Now, where’s the bathroom?”

“First hallway on the left, first door on the left. I’ll start unloading your truck in a moment.”

“Thanks,” she cooed before pecking him on the cheek and rushing briskly around the corner. “This place is huge,” she bellowed back.

“Yeah, just like my—“

Ding dong! The doorbell chimed.

“You’re a child.” Grant heard before a door closed.

“Were get already walking up the fucking driveway?” Grant grumbled to himself. He gathered himself before yanking the door ajar. “Hey!” He said, shifting to a bright chatter. “How can I help you?”

Grant was greeted by a man and woman appearing to be in their late thirties or early forties. The man stood tall and was slightly overweight. His chestnut brown hair was in a generic left-parted business cut. A thick chevron mustache rested above his light smile. He wore a white golf shirt with the country club’s logo—a “B” with two smaller “C”s stacked directly to the right—on the chest, and pleated khaki pants that did little to hide the two huge lumps at the top of either leg. The woman had red hair pulled back into a sporty ponytail. Her cheekbones were high on her slender face, and her makeup was subtle outside the fiery red lipstick. She was dressed more casually in a bright athletic top, black leggings, and neon running shoes.

The man spoke in a low tenor: “Hey! Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Franklin and this is Jess. We live just next door to you.” He gestured to his right, even though the next house was a good hundred yards away. “We’re the Mullinses.” Franklin continued, extending his hand, and growing his light smile to a bleached Hollywood grin.

“Thanks for the introduction,” Grant offered cautiously but genuinely. “I’m Grant. My wife Jennifer has just started to move in. She stepped off to explore.” He turned around and called back into the house, “Honey! Come meet our neighbors, the Mullinses!” Turning back to the new neighbors, he gestured, “Come in! Come in!” The couple crossed the threshold and was guided toward the kitchen.

“Why, thank you!” Jess said brightly with a slight southern twang. The Mullinses took an extensive look around the house as they walked, noting the decor and size of the house. “Y’all have a lovely home,” Jess continued as they began to settle into the kitchen.

The small talk continued in the kitchen over some coffee and tea. A toilet flush and sink running announced Jennifer’s impending arrival. As her footsteps approached, Grant approached the doorway, made a grand gesture and announced his wife’s less-than-grand entrance: “Introducing, the reason for hastily closed curtains and prying eyes, my lovely wife, Jennifer!”

Jennifer silently walked through the display to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. She leaned against the counter, took a small sip, and acknowledged the guests in stark contrast to her husband’s introduction: “Hey. I’m Jennifer.” Her face contorted, suppressing a smile that turned into a chortle.

The stark facade broke after the Mullinses introduced themselves and realized the humorous intention behind her introduction. They actually got along quite well, despite worries of stuffiness from both parties. As it turned out, Franklin was an investor and Jess was close to launching her fashion line of women’s clothing with actual pockets. Grant had to fill in the history of his last four months and his relationship with his late grandfather. Grant himself had only dropped off his things two weeks ago and was still settling in. Jennifer, of course, had just arrived that day; so, her few items from the bachelorette pad were still in the truck.

Mr. and Mrs. Mullins helped them bring in the boxes—only around twelve in total. It was light work, but stomachs grumbled by the end of it. Reading the room, Franklin spoke up, “How would you like to join Jess and I for dinner?”

“Someone finally suggested food!” Jennifer immediately replied. “I’m down. Are you, babe?” She turned to Grant.

“Let’s do it. You a good cook, Jess?” Grant challenged.

“I’m awful, but Franklin is worse,” Jess laughed. “We were going to the club tonight.”

“Ohh! The country club! Excuse me!” Jennifer mocked.

Jess shrugged and smirked. “We make due.”

“My grandfather said just a little about the club before he passed. I’m sure you do,” Grant intuited. “We’ll have to change before we go, though.”

“Of course!” Franklin said. “Jess will have to as well. Just come over to our place in a few and we’ll head down together.”

“Hell yeah! I’m down for some bougie food,” Jennifer announced before hoisting a wardrobe box and hiking upstairs.

Grant walked with the Mullinses to the door. “We’ll be over there in just a few. Next house down the road, right?”

“Yep! 127,” Franklin confirmed. “See you soon!” He called, walking out the door with his wife.

Grant waved after them, watching them walk down the driveway before shutting the door.

Grant changed from his regular streetwear to a pale blue dress shirt and khakis. Jennifer stripped her sweats and was in a day dress within three minutes. It was not long before the Deans were knocking on their neighbors’ door, eager for food. Inside, the sound of hard-soled shoes echoed through the hall like a metronome. The rhythm concluded as the door opened and the tall Mr. Mullins stood before them, having only changed into a pair of black penny loafers.

“Come on in,” he said, ushering the Deans over to a couch. He himself sat in a chair opposite them, legs spread, and abnormally large bulge all the more defined. “Jess should be down in a moment.”

Grant and Jennifer had a hard time not sneaking glances at the pronounced moose knuckle in front of them. Grant blushed as Franklin noticed and locked eye contact with him. Eventually, Grant broke the silence: “So how long have you and Jess lived here?”

“I’ve lived here since I was a kid,” Franklin replied without breaking eye contact.

Heels clacked down the stairs as Grant finally looked away, peaking at the bulge again. His eyes immediately darted back up to see a smile and wink from Franklin.

“Sounds like she’s ready,” Franklin said, rising from his seat. Grant attempted to sneak another glance as the bulge settled into place before rising himself.

Jess reached the bottom of the stairs and announced herself, “Ready to go.” She wore a pale green blouse, black skirt, and black heels. She shook her head, showing off her wavy red hair released from its workout ponytail. She impatiently waved the lot to the door as she proceeded.

Franklin took the opportunity to put his arm around Grant and began walking him out, declaring with a grin: “You’re going to love steakhouse Fridays. They’ve got every cut of meat you could want.”

[inthememetime]

I'm working on stuff for Funeral Rights, the sequel to Cleaning the Gravestones (read here!). Let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions!

Funeral Rites starts about 3-4 years pre-canon, when Vlad (Senior Lab Manager & Assistant CTO) receives a job offer that the family can't really afford to refuse as CTO of Axiom Labs in Amity Park, Illinois.

This kickstarts some plot, in which Vlad and Harriet end up trying (and probably succeeding) in gaining custody of Danny and Jazz for the following reasons:

They're both mildly ectocontaminated, which should NOT be happening

Yes, the bruises on Danny are probably mostly from his bullies, but some of them are bigger than a child's/teenager's hand, and Danny won't explain them

Both kids avoid being at home at all costs

Vlad's so-far buried trauma regarding the Fentons

Important to note: the Fenton parents aren't evil in this. They're misguided, neglectful, don't like to take the consequences of their actions- basically, they're bad scientists and bad parents, but they aren't intentional about it.

Cleaning the Gravestones was largely about blending the natural and unnatural, accepting that not everything can be understood, not going out of your way to hurt what you don't understand, developing and using support structures, and building both platonic and non-platonic relationships. It's also about learning to hide in plain sight.

Funeral Rites is going to flip a lot of that on its' head. It's learning where the line you cannot cross is. There's a breaking down of support structures (Danny and his parents, Wes and his dad, Dani, Katie, and their dad once they learn he's a murderer), and choosing what, if any, relationship to build back.

It's learning sometimes the secrets you keep for your family's safety can really bite you. Finally, it's about gaining closure: maybe not everything is perfect, or even close, but if you can at least pick up the rubble, maybe you can build something again. Above all: what really makes a monster? Is it being inhuman? Or something else? And how much of our destiny can we really rewrite?

Due to length, everything else under the cut.

Obviously, some things are different from canon. Vlad hasn't stewed in anger/hatred over the Fentons, he's (mostly) moved on. He and Harriet are (happily) married. They've got kids. So Vlad can't be Danny's narrative foil. That will be filled by someone else.

Walter Weston is an ally in this, unlike in CtG, where he was the primary antagonist. He's able to accept consequences, and feels a lot of guilt; he's eager to make up for his actions any way he can. Wesley is a lot like his dad 10 years ago, though thankfully isn't cursed by a spirit of madness.

Jazz is tired of being a mother at 13, and doesn't know how to fix things. She wants to be a kid, for once in her life, and the Chin-Masters family is promising to help with that.

Danny starts off with feelings of jealousy;

[tessansgp]

Monroe County releases jail video showing inmate’s final minutes

[in-my-shifting-era]

Some Days Are Harder Then Others

Eddie Munson (Angst that ends with lots of Fluff)

Warning: talk of the death of a parent and grief. Some mature language.

Summery: Reader is having a hard time with some personal issues and is canceling plans with Eddie and he wants to get to the bottom of why that is.

Authors Note: As someone who has experienced parent loss this is a bit self indulgent.Also my messages are open to anyone who has lost a loved one and needs someone to talk to. I may have cried writing this so be warned.

———————————————————————————————————

Grief is a bitch, that’s the easiest way to put it. They say it gets easier with time but after 7 years the wound still bleeds. Losing a parent at age 11 make’s grieving complicated and isolating. The loss becomes part of who you are and that means sharing the news with new friends and even partners that come into your life.

Eddie knew about your father’s passing from when it happened in middle school. Word traveled fast after administration was told and you where absent from school for 2 weeks only returning after the funeral service. He was one of the few kids that didn’t walk on egg shells around you when you came back.

You sat alone at lunch on your first day back. Eddie invited himself and sat with you. He immediately talked your ear off about the cool new pin you were wearing on your backpack. The pin belonged to your dad. It was from some band he liked and wore on a hat. Now it was one of the few things you had to remember him by. Eddie made a day that was destined to be hard and uncomfortable a day you met your best friend.

Eddie always let you grieve freely, he encouraged it actually. He’d ask you to tell him stories of your late father and he even gave you flowers on the anniversary of his death every year for you to put on his grave. You slowly fell for the metal head in your years of friendship leading up to a relationship your senior year.

Eddie likes to claim he repeated his senior year three times just so he could graduate with you. Now that you are finally graduating Eddie has stepped up his academic efforts to have at least a solid “C” in each class to pass. You study with him most nights and actually get him to do his homework with lots of breaks for cuddles and snacks.

So when you canceled your usual celebratory ice cream date for passing your math test on Wednesday with Eddie due to a headache he wasn’t hurt just concerned. Then you told him you had to watch your neighbors kid after school Thursday he was bummed but let it slide. His final straw was when you didn’t show up to school at all on Friday. He knew something was up and he was going to find out just what it was.

He completely ditched school after first period when he learned you had never shown up to class from Gareth. All the awful scenarios plagued his brain as to what could be happening with you. Did your car break down?Where you sick? Did you wanna break up with him and where avoiding him at all costs?

His mind raced until he made it to your house and seeing your moms car in the drive way. He put his van in park and practically ran to your front door knocking a little too eagerly. Your mom opened the door quickly and smiled softly when she saw Eddie with a worried expression on his face. He gave her a polite smile before he spoke. “Hello Miss y/ln, is y/n home? She never came to school today.”

Your mom actually really liked Eddie. Even before he was officially your boyfriend she always thought he was so polite and sweet. “Hi Eddie. She did stay home. She’s been having a rough few days and I told her to take a day off. She didn’t tell you she wouldn’t be coming in? You two are joined at the hip I figured you already knew.”

Eddie frowned at the thought of you not telling him something was wrong. Your mother caught on to this and spoke again. “She tells you everything doesn’t she? I actually had to pry this one out of her myself. She’s been missing her dad a lot lately. I think the thought of graduating without him around has finally sunk in.”

Eddie’s heart felt like it had completely shattered hearing that. He gave your mom a soft smile as he rocked on his feet gently. “I think I know where to find her now. Thank you.” She sent him off with a knowing nod and smile. She watched as Eddie walked back to his van and started on his way to find you.

Hawkins cemetery was a few miles from your house. Not an easy walk so he figured you drove. He was proven right when he could see your car from the entrance of the cemetery. He parks his car just outside the gate and walks in knowing how to get to your father’s grave from visiting with you before.

You sat by the grave marked with your father’s name. Tears stain your cheeks as you pick at grass that surrounds the garnet stone. “Graduating should be exciting right? All the bull shit of high school is almost over and all I can think about is that you won’t be in the crowd watching me walk across that stage. Ready to give me flowers like you always did when I accomplished something.” You wipe another fallen tear as you bring your knees to your chest.

Eddie finally makes it to where your sat, your shaky voice now clear as he approaches you. He goes to announce his presence but stops when you softly continue your talk. “Eddie’s going to be with me though. I know you never got to meet him but I think you’d really like him Dad. He makes me really happy and he treats me like a gentleman. Just like you always told me I deserve.”

A wide smile quickly finds its way to Eddie’edds face as he hears you talk about him to your father. He knows you like to catch him up on all the things going on, good and bad. His heart sores knowing he is something good in your life. Eddie steps closer and his feet meeting the grass close to where you’re sat. “Mr y/ln, I’ll do everything I can to get her those flowers for walking across that stage. She deserves it, for getting me there too.”

You look behind you quickly recognizing Eddie’s voice immediately. Seeing him makes all the confusing emotions flood over and your eyes fill with tears. “Eds .” You’re quickly enveloped in a huge as Eddie joins you where you’re sat in the grass letting you cry into his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your time with him.” Eddie rubs your back gently as he speaks knowing how it calms you down.

You shake your head again his shoulder and attempt to steady your shaking breathing. “You’re not interrupting. I’m sorry I disappeared lately.” Eddie pulls you back a bit, only enough to be able to wipe your fallen tears. “You don’t have to apologize for anything princess. You are aloud to feel your emotions however you see fit. Just know I’ll be here for you. Even when the ugly grief clouds cast over head.”

You give your boyfriend a small smile and a nod laying your head against his chest gently. “I’m pretty sure you heard what I said about you to him. I ment it. He would have really liked you Eddie.” You take his calloused hand into yours and play with his rings gently. Something that has always soothed you.  Eddie pulls you closer to his chest. “I still aim for his approval you know. He may not be here to scare me straight into treating his daughter right but I still do everything I can to be a man he’d be happy to have stolen his daughters heart.”

You pull back gently and cup Eddie’s face with your hands and smile widely up at him. “ I don’t know how I get so lucky to find a guy like Eddie Munson but I’m not letting you go. Got it.” Before Eddie can even respond your crash your lips into his. He kisses you back instantly and pulls away after a short moment. “I’m not going anywhere princess. You’re kinda stuck with me.” Eddie tightens his grip around you gently and kisses all over your face making you giggle loudly.

Once he stops he lets you catch your breath and he smiles down at you. “I heard something about getting you flowers at graduation? Do I get a bouquet for myself as well?” You roll your eyes playfully at his comment and lay against him as you talk about graduation and make plans for what will happen that day. Your dad being involved in every step of the way.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Love in a Ghost Town--Part 7: Seismic Shifts (Finale)

Eddie Munson’s become content with working his day job. After the crazy stretching of events from 1983-1986, Eddie’s grateful for a little bit of normal in his life.

That is until one day, Valeria Browns shows up in town looking for a quick car fix. And she’s more than he might’ve bargained for on the eve of Valentine’s Day. Valeria is just trying to enjoy her Valentine’s Day weekend after many years of being perpetually single. She has her fun, but it’s never serious. Maybe Eddie can change some of that.

Older!Mechanic!Eddie Munson. 2003 alternative universe. BlackFem! OC.

The Upside Down doesn’t exist in this fic. But strange things do happen to the town of Hawkins, Indianna. Major Character Death that is not canon as a result of the non-Upside Down AU.

This chapter is from Eddie's perspective.

CW: 18+ content (Smut, oral--male and femme receiving, p in v); Pregnancy (unplanned); implied/past alcohol abuse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Edited Picture of Eddie by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Feel free to review my masterlist here

______________________

Eddie can count the number of times he thought the next day was never going to be his. Exactly 5,844 days of thinking the next day won’t be his--it’s not that Eddie is counting lately. He promised that when he made the promise to Valeria he’d stop. For all the times he didn’t show up to algebra or trig, he’s lightning at multiplication. Never mind the fact that he did the math on a calculator to double check himself. It’s not necessarily counting when he realized the last day he counted the days that the days kept coming was after Valeria came back into town and dropped off exactly 350 dollars in fifties, twenties, and tens. He stopped counting because he didn’t want to know how long it would be until he found himself in her presence again. Too much of an ache when he realized his life felt too settled--or perhaps he felt settled on the fact that he would live and die by Hawkins in the long run and he would never get out--and this ultimately settling could rob him of something more. 

Eddie is selfish at times. He can admit that. It is a fatal flaw in his entire composition. He’d been selfish with Sinclair and his basketball years on the tail end of his final senior year by not always being flexible on Dungeons and Dragons sessions. He’d been selfish about Wayne’s funeral. Wayne told him to have just a small viewing and then cremate him. But Eddie spent what he had to give Wayne more. Eddie liked to tell himself he was doing his uncle proud--the mid range cost casket, the mid-range cost flowers. Nothing jaw dropping, but still more than Wayne said he wanted. Eddie felt like he couldn’t let his uncle go out in death remembered as the person who’d gotten too sick, spent too much money on not even getting better but rather only staying alive to afford anything else. The truth of it is simple. The funeral was for Eddie in retrospect. Wayne was always known around town as a good, decent, hardworking guy with a quick and quiet wit. But Eddie needed to see him go out with something more because it’s in that memory of Wayne’s body in a properly tailored suit, casket shutting on the still too young but hollowed face and lowered into the ground like good decent people go, that makes it easier for Eddie to sleep at night. 

And maybe this particular moment, staring at his ringing house phone, knowing exactly who it is to call him at such a time in the evening, that Eddie’s hesitation to answer is self-preserving. There is a difference in being selfish versus knowing that the good thing is the scary thing and not choosing it. The difference is fear. The easy choices are made without much thought because there’s no need to question what comes after. The answer is already known. The answer comes like it’s supposed to. 

Eddie answers though. He could never preserve himself enough around her. He picks up the yellow receiver on the fourth ring and settles it against his ear. “Hey, Val,” he greets. 

“Hi, Eddie.” Her voice makes his innards feel like ice cubes melting in the summer heat. It’s not necessarily a rasp to her voice. But it is low, smooth in a way that makes Eddie feel warm on the inside. “How’d you know it was me?”

“When is it never not you?” Eddie returns, leaning into the wall. The yellow cord dangles around his legs. “I’m at a point where if it’s not you, it feels strange.” A confession--not that he hadn’t been trying to confess for a couple weeks now. He did miss Valeria and it didn’t shatter his whole day. It was an achy miss--a kind of longing he hadn’t really experienced since Wayne’s initial passing. Eddie couldn’t get enough of listening to Valeria in the evenings after work. He loved listening to her day; loved it when she asked about his day, picking up pieces of his job’s lingo. 

Eddie missed Valeria in a way that feels sometimes so pitifully simple. He wants to watch movies next to Valeria tangled up on a couch, her buried into his side and swatting at his chest when he gives unnecessary commentary to the film. He wants to hear her laughter not through a phone, and wants to see her smile again--when she’s not playing coy or caring about how big her smile is. Eddie just fucking misses Valeria. 

Lights fill the trailer. Eddie spins, listening to the rumble of a car cut out right outside his house. The curtains don’t fully shut out the light. When Eddie occasionally fell asleep on the couch, the thin barrier woke him before he really wanted to. “Can-can I call you back, Val? Someone’s outside I think and I’m not expecting visitors.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Thanks,” Eddie hums. “Hopefully it won’t take long.”

“Be safe.” 

“I will.” 

Eddie hangs the phone back up on the receiver and ducks towards the front door. It’s dark out so he can’t make out who it might be or the car all too well from the window. Right after getting the blinds and curtains settled again, a knock rings out from his door. There’s no hiding it anymore. He turns the knob and like a visage, some sort of hallucination that Eddie can’t separate out from reality, is Valeria on his porch. The hand still on the knob twitches. Eddie can’t make heads or tails if he’s close to swinging the door close or swinging it wide open. 

“Heard it’s someone’s birthday today,” Valeria offers. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Val? Is this even real?” Eddie’s own heart is thundering in his chest. He can feel it beating against his ribs. The edges of his vision blur for just a moment and then as Valeria speaks, his vision clears.

“I came to make a delivery.” From the top of her bag, she digs out a white envelope. 

“Don’t--no. No more money,” Eddie huffs, releasing the door to pull her up the steps. His hands are flying to shove the envelope back into the slightly unzipped bag. He’d nearly thrown the cash she gave him back into a new envelope to mail it to her, but her note specifically said otherwise. Eddie’s sure that if Valeria hadn’t said anything otherwise he would’ve sent it all back. But she knew him all too well. 

Valeria doesn’t resist Eddie’s work. She just pulls the tickets back out. “I heard there’s a show up in Indy tomorrow. Thought you might be interested in going.”

Eddie watches more closely now as she pulls the envelope back out and flips the lid. She produces two tickets. Eddie is gobsmacked. He’d been trying to get tickets--it was a match up of different bands on the road together-- and had even asked Valeria if she’d be interested. She’d returned that she’d been stuck with a shift that she couldn’t shake. After that Eddie let go of the romantic notion of getting one more weekend with Valeria. Valeria had begged, though, for Eddie to still do something for his birthday. He’d gotten dinner with Harrington, Buckley, Older Wheeler, and Byers. He’s sure the kids would track him down after work tomorrow for something to do as well for his birthday. Eddie felt at peace with the idea of merely enjoying the antics when the kids came up to get him. He’d happily accept the love when it came from them, attempting to make good on his promise. He is sure that he would give them a hard time about it. But inevitably he’d take the kindness, even if Eddie still didn’t seek it. Seeking is still much too risky. 

“But the shop, I can’t--” Eddie counters. 

Valeria slips the tickets into his hand, curling his fingers around them. “Jeff will cover.”

“How--you don’t even…?”

“I talked to Robin and Nancy who talked to Steve, who talked to Jeff.” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to wear, Val. I can’t show up to this looking a mess,” Eddie teases. He wants to find something else--anything else--to rebut this act of kindness with. If he could come up with something more than who was going to watch the shop, he would. But in reality, Indy is only another two hours from here. The drive wouldn’t be bad. They could even visit some places around the venue if they wanted before the show. By the time it ended, it would be late, but not so late that the two hour drive back couldn’t be handled by one of them.

“Consider me your personal stylist for the evening,” Valeria whispers in retort. 

Her eyes--deep and warm-- hold him steady. Like she’s begging him to not put up the front. The thing is Eddie always would at least a little bit. He’d always front, but Valeria would always be able to break him down. The stiff October breeze cuts over Eddie’s arms and he’s reminded that they’re still on his front porch. The door to the trailer is still wide open. God only knows what sort of bugs have flown in possibly in all of this. Eddie pulls Valeria inside, shutting the door softly behind him, a click of the lock sealing them firmly inside. 

“You didn’t have to do this. How’d you get out of the shift?”

“I sacrificed some PTO before Thanksgiving in exchange with the assistant store manager. I bought the tickets months ago and then sort of worked backwards from there to get things all worked out.”

The living room feels more lived in as Valera slides out of her shoes and shucks her duffle back onto the single arm chair. The space exhales around her, like it too was rigid and waiting for her return. “You hungry?” Eddie asks, slipping the tickets onto the dining room table, next to his wallet and keys. 

As he’s spinning to face her, Valeria’s slipping into his space. Her socked feet slide ever so gently over the floors and her head’s falling into his shoulder. Eddie winds his arms around her body with ease. His inhale is deep--pressing the smell of something sweet without being floral still decorating her skin. He wonders if it’s the same Shea Butter lotion he noticed she used or something related to it. But God, he loves it. He missed the scent on his sheets. 

“Hey,” Eddie whispers against her temple. 

“Hi,” Valeria giggles into his neck. The sound sends a shiver up his spine. “I ate on the road.”

Eddie hears the words, but he focuses for just a moment on the way Valeria feels in his arm. She’d never been small by any means. From their first sighting Eddie was well aware of that fact. But she’s always been soft against him. Valeria’s firm still because not even years away from sports can take away what genetics bring to the table. Maybe even firmer now than what was there before. She’d mentioned occasionally tagging along with Chelsea to the gym, but it doesn’t sound consistent. And all Eddie can manage to do is pray that his fingertips can absorb this feeling--Valeria’s warmth. 

“Want something sweet then? I’m not much of a baker but Pillsbury does right by me each time.” 

Valeria shakes her head against Eddie’s shoulder. There’s no braids this time. Her last visit she’d had her hair a slew of them, parted into squares. Now the tressesses fall like corkscrews down to her shoulders. The roots are flatter, look gelled or sprayed down and then curl down from there. Eddie’s not sure how to describe it. But he presses his nose into the foliage of her hair and inhales yet again. 

“Are you sniffing my hair?” Valeria asks. Her voice is muffled now by the muscle of Eddie’s neck. 

“Maybe,” he whispers. He is. He’d do it again. He’d do it forever if he had the option. “It smells tasty. Maybe I should take a bite out of it. Hmm. Think it could be a tasty treat.”

Valeria’s laughter echoes. As she struggles back out of his embrace, all she can do is laugh and laugh and laugh. Eddie adores it. He feels the sound down in his toes. “My hair is not for consumption, sir,” Valeria teases, plopping down onto the couch. 

She fills the space, one arm resting up against the back of the couch. Valeria’s always spilled the space. But Eddie drinks in the sight, her sprawled out and laughing still. He could consume her. Not that he wants her selfishly, to have her so no one else can. But he wants her to swallow his heart in her arms. He wants to know the fullness in his chest like he knows the back of his own hands.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Valeria’s voice is soft, head ducked. Her hair--a dark brown with some honey highlights--covers her face like a curtain. Though she ducks her head, she still keeps her arms spread out. She still refused to fully stop consuming space. 

“Tell me. Tell me how I’m looking at you,” Eddie laughs, reclining into the table, arms folded across his chest. He swears his body will totally evaporate if Valeria actually answers him. And he knows when he demands it, she will. 

It’s silent for a moment. Her nails click--a nervous habit Eddie’s noticed. Valeria flicks her nails together when she’s gathering her nerves. This time her nails are painted a pearl pink with black spider webs across the fingers. Her middle fingers hold a spider though, a black window specifically given the red patch on the top. Eddie thinks--no, he knows--he wouldn’t mind getting caught in Valeria’s web. Hell, he probably already was. Everyone noticed it--Robin, Steve, the kids. They knew if Eddie didn’t talk to Valeria much the day before. He was a bit more clipped in his responses. Never actually grumpy, but never fully centered. Eddie always felt a little off kilter, like he hadn’t gotten enough rest by an hour or two, but knew he would still get through the day. 

Valeria looks up, a new resolve settling onto her face. It pulls her lips down just a little into a pout. Eddie knows it’s never actually in displeasure. Her face usually scrunches up when she’s displeased. It reminds him just ever so slightly of Erica--they were both books that didn’t have problems opening up. They advertised who they were without hesitation. But Valeria’s looking at him, eyes slightly glazed over. He can’t tell if they’re tears or not, but the thought that they might be immediately sets his heart thundering. 

Her words pin him back into his spot before he can push up and start over to her. “You look at me like you might love me. Like, love me differently than just friends do.”

Like you might love me. It was no question for Eddie though. He does love Valeria. He loves her more than he does the rest of his friends. He knew it a couple months ago. He didn’t want to say anything about it. Because it was ridiculous. They lived hours apart from each other. Neither one of them seemed to budge on making a move for more. Eddie didn’t want to leave the comfort of this town--even if it had caused him pain. Valeria most definitely wouldn’t be moving away from her friends to a town like Hawkins. 

“I’m too chicken shit,” Eddie replies. “Because what would happen if I did say I did love you? What would we do if I said when I told you when you came back in June that when I said I missed you I wasn’t just talking about missing you in a friendly way.”

“Too chicken shit,” Valeria laughs softly, pushing up from the couch. “But my question in return is would you choose me? You said before you couldn’t choose. That it’s too scary to choose because inevitably someone leaves.”

Eddie’s not sure why he thought with Valeria they could just ride the wave. Maybe before--when she’d only come back once. But now she’s back twice. She’d chosen Eddie twice now and he still hadn’t budged. “You always know what you want,” Eddie returns. It’s meant to be a joke, but something catches in his throat when he watches her face drop. 

“Do you know what you want? Are you ready to put in work? I feel stuck. All the time. And when I got unfortunately stranded, I realized I felt stuck because I was living this life on auto-pilot. After everything I’d done, seen, been through, going through the motions was just about keeping me alive, but wasn’t about me living. I want to live now. And I don’t know what that looks like, what it really means in the grand scheme of things. But I’d like to figure it out. With you. If you’re ready.”

That--that is the million dollar question. Is Eddie ready? Here, at thirty-eight, he felt like he should have a more readily available answer, but in the grand scheme of things, Eddie is still scared. He’s still the boy that lost his uncle--the last bits of family that felt like an anchor. He’s still the boy who got chased by this town, spilled blood for no real reason outside of other’s narrow beliefs. 

“I don’t know who I am if I’m not here,” he replies. “I don’t know what it means to leave this--the town, this life. What if I’m just lost once I leave?”

“Those questions haunt me too, Eddie. You think I don’t think for a second about what happens if I leave my friends behind. Who’s going to ride by my grandmother’s to check on her each Sunday if it’s not me? What do I actually want to do with my life besides what I’ve already been doing? I don’t have these answers. But I’m trying. I signed up for fucking ballet classes. I don’t know if you remember but my ass is maybe too big for a tutu. I am haunted by ghosts. That statement feels more literal than not sometimes. But what do I do if I don’t try?”

“Your ass is not too big for a tutu. I happen to think it’s the perfect size for one.”

“Not my point, Eddie.” Her eyes narrow. “You can be scared, but you can’t not try.”

One of her flaws. Valeria has a very specific view of the world. It’s not that she’s wrong. It’s just that she fails to account for how fucking hard this is. She fails to account for a perspective fully outside of her own. “You don’t get to dictate what I do and don’t do, you know? I’m terrified. As ridiculous as it may sound. But it doesn’t mean I don’t think about what could be. You don’t get to assume.”

Valeria rests her hand onto his forearm. She tugs and Eddie hadn’t even fully recognized how closed off he’d made himself until Valeria’s silently pleading for him to let her back in. “Then tell me. What do you think could be?”

��I think about waking up next to you, in an apartment or something in a city that neither one of us has history in. I think about standing over your shoulder as you cook. I think about how angry you’d be at me for getting something red mixed in with the whites and turning all my work shirts pink but how ultimately you’d tease that pink might be my color after all. I-I think about if just in the other room that we sleep if it weren’t filled with my guitars and records and your stuff, maybe you get back to softball. I think about what if it had a crib instead. And I think about how scared I am. How much I could fuck up a good thing in a blink.”

Valeria blinks. Her eyes swim and then cloud over. Eddie can only watch for a moment but it feels heavy and his arms fall unceremoniously at his sides like they are suddenly filled with lead. Valeria’s hand goes with the action. She nods, a laugh falling from her throat. “Got it, Eddie. Got it. Envisioning a whole family but still too chicken shit.”

“What about you? What are you envisioning?”

She takes a step back and Eddie takes a step forward, but she curls her arms under her chest. Oh, how the tables have turned. The saving grace is that Eddie’s not going to push and when he reclines back to the spot where he was, Valeria stays in the half step between them. Her voice is clear. “Effort.”

It stings. He thinks maybe it was supposed to, but she’s right. Even if she’s never totally subtle about it. “Nope, never one to mince words, huh.”

“Never will be,” Valeria returns. “Let’s see what you’ve got in your closet since you can’t show up a mess.” She nods her head down the hall and then starts for Eddie’s bedroom. 

He can only watch. Valeria’s arms are still folded, but she still carries on. Eddie hopes to God she waits for him. He wouldn’t dare call it a prayer, lest Valeria be the altar and the God he’s worshiping. But watching her, the sway of her hips, as she carries herself down the hallway more and more the darkness swallowing her, Eddie thinks maybe he should pray more often. Maybe he should get his fucking act together because no one can wait forever. But goddamn it, Eddie hopes Valeria does have the patience of a saint. That, Eddie realizes, is the truly selfish part. He wants Valeria to wait for him or at the very least come back to him. If she can’t wait, God, let her come back. 

“What do you think?” Eddie holds his arms out. The pants have been sitting in his closet for years now--leather didn’t really seem like it was having its moment in the 90’s or early two thousands, but he’d been too proud of all the work he’d done to save up for them. So they sat in the closet and Eddie yearned for a day to break them back out. He’s thankful to all hell he got them a couple sizes larger than he might’ve needed them. There’s very little stretch in the material--some, but not a lot. 

Valeria’s gaze is slow. She takes her eyes up his body. She has been the last hour of Eddie’s frantic flurry. Clothes flying out of his closet like a cartoon, Eddie hated almost everything he’s ever bought in his life. Occasionally, Valeria would give an impressed hum and then suggest what needed to change--bottoms that needed to go, jacket that was clashing. Now Eddie stands in his leather pants that he was sure would never see the light of day, and a white cotton button up that Eddie is sure was influenced by Robin. He unearthed his black cowboy boots from the corner of his closet to complete the ensemble. 

Now, Valeria’s gaze travels up and up and Eddie can only wait. His fingers tremble just a little and he wonders for a moment if the soft click of the rings is audible enough for Valeria. Eddie watches her eyes. He needs her eyes to lock onto his again. Ever since she walked into the bedroom, she’d kept herself tucked away, legs pulled up to her chest. Valeria chews on her bottom lip. Just look. Please. Just look at me baby, please. 

“You look good, Eds.” 

Her voice is soft and when her eyes finally lift, settling onto his, Eddie exhales. Her eyes sparkle just a little. Something floats still behind them--sadness or maybe something else, but in front of that is a spark. Just what Eddie needed. If he could keep that spark alive, he could keep Valeria. And it’s insane really. Eddie is insane--no two ways about it. He’s insane about Valeria and he’s insane to keep toying with her. But fear--damn fear is a strong motivator. But if he can keep the spark in her alive maybe it would buy him a little bit more time. 

“Oh, a nickname to the nickname. Damn, I must be special,” he teases. It’s not what he wants to say. He wants to beg. Ask Valeria not to let him go. Tell her that he just needs a little bit more time. But instead, he cracks a joke. Because that’s what he always does. It’s what always saves him. It’s the easy choice. 

Valeria scoffs, resting her chin on her knees. “You’re special alright. Certifiable some might say.”

“Then I wonder what it says about you?” He crosses the foot between his bed and closet to the edge of the bed. One knee falls into the mattress and Valeria watches him the whole way. “Don’t you think there’s something to be said about you too in all this?”

“Yeah, that I’m certifiable too.”

Eddie leans in, holding his weight up on one pressed down fist. He tucks a little bit of Valeria’s hair back behind her ear. “What are you wearing?”

“Jeans, corseted top. Boots. Nothing special.”

“Let me see. We can’t clash.”

Valeria snorts. “You’ll see tomorrow. Also, I think you should go with the leather jacket.”

“That’s a lot of leather going on in one outfit, don’t you think?”

“Some might say that occasional indulgence is doctor recommended.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort at Valeria’s comment, head dropping for a moment. As it does, he feels some of the hair he hadn’t gotten secured well enough in the elastic fall down. It doesn’t stand a chance though. Valeria’s moving the strands back behind his ears just as soon as they fall, palms pressing into his cheeks. Her nails--a perfect addition of pressure when she scratches lightly at his bearded jaw. Eddie’s stomach quivers at the touch. 

Eddie watches her tongue dart out to lick her lips. It’s hanging again between them--the tension. Eddie tilts her head back with just a gentle press of his palm. “Can I kiss you?”

He needs permission because it’s reckless. To tell Valeria he dream of what they could have--love, a family, and then to tell her that he won’t take the leap because he’s too scared is a coward’s move and it’s smothered in the stench of assholery to ask for more. Knowing he can’t give her what she wants. But still wanting it all. 

“You’ll want more.” It doesn’t sound accusatory as it falls from Valeria’s lips. It’s factual. Because Eddie will. He will always want more. 

“Is that a yes?” Don’t take what’s not given, but damn do I want you to say yes--the thought echoes and echoes until Valeria’s voice interrupts it. 

“I worked all day and then drove down. Rain check.”

There and gone. Eddie nods, smiling at Valeria. He thinks it might reach his eyes, but even he can feel how it may not fully reach either, like the corners of his mouth and eyes hit an invisible wall. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. My bed or the guest bedroom--your pick of the litter.” 

“Probably the guest room.”

“Probably? No one’s kicking you out, sweetheart. We can just cuddle, do face masks, kill the pint of vanilla ice cream I have if sugar cookies aren’t going to cut it.”

“You do not have a pint.”

“Go hop in the shower and find out then, hmm. I’ll teach you a thing or two about doubting me.” Eddie laughs and this time it does feel real as he pats her ankle. This time it feels like what they’ve always had when Valeria narrows her gaze but unfurls herself. This time it feels real when she smacks his ass. It’s a loud pop and Eddie’s not sure what stings more, her hand, his ass, or the lead in his chest. Just give me one more shot, he almost says. 

Eddie changes out of the outfit, tucking the items back onto their respective hangers. He knows Valeria won’t be terribly long in the shower. Tucked back into the sweatpants and tank, Eddie settles on the couch. The shower still runs, but Eddie can feel the buzz, the anxiety creeping up under his skin. He’s going to lose it all. Everything he had and what could’ve been is going to slip through his fingers. There’ll be nothing to catch it, not even a coffee table with a pint of ice cream and one spoon. 

“Where’s your spoon?” Valeria questions, freshly showered. Her skin still echoes with warmth that Eddie feels covering his arm. 

“Must’ve forgotten,” he laughs, but opens his mouth wider when Valeria holds out a spoonful for him to have. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she laughs. But that luck feels like it’s running out. 

____________________

It’s not a long drive to Indy. Eddie’s done it himself plenty of times in under two hours. He doesn’t even fuss for control of the radio. He’d rather listen to Valeria sing along to the songs, the Top 40 that she seems to keep on all the time. He’s sure that she must get tired of it. But he doesn’t get tired when she bounces in the passenger seat to Hey Ya. It’s maybe the second time it's been played since they started driving. It makes the drive that much more entertaining as Valeria chants, “What’s cooler than being cool? Ice cold!”

 Eddie joins in on the second call-and-response because he can catch just out of the corner of his vision, Valeria motioning at him. It's noon now, sun high above them. They’d stop to get lunch at a place Eddie enjoyed and then get dinner at a little mom and pop shop that Valeria recommended. An even and fair approach to the impromptu day trip. The middle is sort of up in the air. Eddie has some places he likes to frequent--the tattoo shop he’s gotten all his ink done at, a couple of record shops. Valeria vaguely mentioned wanting to stop at a few boutiques. It feels remarkably normal as the cracks in the window allow air to seep through. 

It feels remarkably normal, but Eddie knows that it’s not. Even as Valeria giggles at his stupid jokes over her plate of fries and a burger, Eddie knows it’s not normal. When Valeria drags Eddie into a boutique and he snatches a fun green dress and pleads for Valeria to try it on, it’s not normal. When Valeria saunters out in the dress, off the shoulder sleeves, ruffles, and cinched waist, and Eddie’s jaw drops, it is not normal. It’s not normal to feel his arousal in fingertips. It’s not normal to drop to his knees from the stool outside the dressing room. 

“You’re getting that. I don’t care how. You are getting that,” Eddie breathes. But this isn’t normal because Eddie knows that something between them is different. But he’s going to pretend that it is normal. Because he wants it to be normal. He wants what they’ve always had. 

Valeria takes a socked foot and presses her toes into his sternum. “Slow down there. Dress is sixty dollars. And I technically need one more size up.” 

In the reflection now of the mirror, he can see how the zipper is still undone. She got it partially up but it does look like a squeeze. “XL?” Eddie asks, dragging his fingers over the bone of her ankle. 

“1X actually. This one doesn’t stretch like I thought.” 

Eddie arches his brow, fingers now dragging over her calf. He should be more worried about standing. The leather pants will not hide anything. But he doesn’t care. This is about keeping the little piece of normal going that they have. His pride be damned. “I’ll go look for it.” 

“That’s if they sell plus sizes. I can normally get by on the extra large.” 

“I’ll go look, yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Eddie,” Valeria demands. She drags her foot down his stomach, pressing right over his crotch. There’s no hiding it—his erection. But the press of her foot is just enough. It should hurt and it does. But it hurts in just the right way. He groans—long and drawn out but he doesn’t care. 

“I am going to do so many stupid things,” Eddie whispers into her knee. But he doesn’t wait for Valeria’s response. Maybe she doesn’t even respond. He stands, careful to get her foot back to the floor and let her get stable. He prays this place has a 1X. He needs them to have that dress in the right size for her. 

He darts back to the rack where he saw the item. Small, small, extra small, medium, medium, medium, large, extra large, extra large. His breath stops in his throat. No 1X. “Excuse me, miss,” Eddie starts, trying to flag down the one person he spots behind the register. When they look up, Eddie smiles and lifts the dress. “Do you happen to have this in a 1X?”

The woman glances down at the item. The seconds are long and Eddie swears his heart is going to leap out his chest. His grip keeps tightening around the thin plastic of the hanger. “Hmm we don’t normally sell plus size here.” 

Of fucking course. 

“But I think that designer just recently expanded sizing, actually. She works directly with us so we try to make good sales. Give me just a second!” With that the worker flies off to a back corner. Eddie watches, hearing the scratch of metal over metal. He leans out and notices a longer rack of clothes—one that might be used to wheel loads of clothes to be stocked on the floor but aren’t themselves racks to shop off of. But her fingers are quick and then she lifts up the green dress. 

“Last one too!” the worker calls out. 

“I’ll take it.” Relief isn’t the right word to name what Eddie feels. His limbs feel like they’re floating and then suddenly drop back to earth. He hangs the clothing item back into the rack and begins digging out his wallet to meet the worker at the register. 

“One lucky lady,” the woman teases. She scans the tag before pulling the hanger out of the neckline. “How long have you two been together?”

Did it seem like decades to the outside world? There was no way others would be able to see how well they fit together, how natural the whole thing felt. What Eddie and Valeria had feels like lifetimes together. The reality is that they only had a few months, but there’s no way someone on the outside could see it. And even if someone could see it, there was no way that Eddie was going to burden some stranger about his own inability to get his life together. Eddie grins, “Feels like a lifetime but wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Maybe it’s too soft how he says it. The girl looks up at him, a pout settling on her lips. “That is so sweet. God, I’d kill for a love like that. When it does come, you definitely have to hold onto it.”

Eddie can only nod, passing along the bills for the dress. All the words are dried up on his tongue because he knows. As much as he didn’t want to fuck things up with Val, he might have already. A dress wouldn’t save them. Maybe nothing would save them now. But Eddie takes the bag, a smile plastered on his face. “The right person will come around soon,” he offers. Just don’t fuck it up like me. There’s no need to break the illusion for her though. Maybe she’d already suffered enough heartache. Eddie does believe in love for other people. She’d find the right person soon. It takes hope. And effort, but hoping is so much easier. 

“Please tell me you didn’t.” Valeria’s laughter cuts through whatever rebuttal the worker had primed on her tongue. Eddie turns to see Valeria carrying the dress that was a size too small, glaring at him. Even though Valeria called the outfit simple, tried to shrug it off as something minimal, Eddie still couldn’t believe the sight in front of them. The royal blue of the top dazzles off her skin. The black jeans and boots only seal off the look in a way that when Valeria stands next to him, it makes him feel taller. Though she’s the one in the four inch platforms. 

Valeria shakes her head as she smiles. She places the dress back on the rack, by passing Eddie completely before facing him again. “Eddie, please. It’s your birthday not mine.” 

It takes him a moment to work his throat and mouth again--tongue drying a little out on him. Eddie shrugs. “My birthday was yesterday. It’s over now.” 

“No it’s not,” Val huffs. “It’s not over until this concert is over.”

Eddie holds out his bent arm. “Too late. It is done. Where to next?”

Valeria takes a gentle hold of his crooked elbow. “Your pick, birthday boy.” Valeria presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. Her lips brush against his skin as she whispers, “Record store?” 

Eddie slips his free hand around her fingers. It reminds him he’s alive, in the middle of a clothing store. He’s not gone yet. Neither is she. Valeria’s not gone either. “It’s a little far out. You sure there’s nothing else you want to see on this side while we’re out here. We could just walk around?” 

“Are you going to complain about your feet in those boots?” Valeria snorts. 

“These boots were made for walking,” Eddie returns, voice barely above a whisper. His nose brushes against Valeria’s forehead. This could be his. This could all be normal--for right now, it is. It is normal. And it is Eddie’s. 

“Sure, I guess. There’s a cool vintage shop I think around the corner. Maybe you’ll find some new rings.”

“Worth a shot.” Neither one of them moves for a moment, still pressed close together in their own bubble. But Valeria shifts, straightening up and that’s all it takes for motions to set off. They give their thanks and goodbyes to the worker. Valeria leads them to the vintage shop. The click of her keys on her hip and the heel of Eddie’s boot echoes. The sound precedes them. From the vintage store, back to the truck, to the record store, to the restaurant for dinner. There’s the click and clack of their synced steps. When the venue fills with chatter, others laughter bubbling around them, Eddie can still hear Valeria. Her breaths, the clink of her earrings when she bobs or turns her head. Everything is attuned to her. Because Eddie just needs to hold a little bit longer, a little bit tighter. 

Eddie takes her hand when the songs slow down, thumb rubbing over her skin. Valeria squeezes in return. This is all you could ever need, Munson. And just as the thought settles, he feels the ‘but’. It’s the undermine--the thing Eddie tells himself so he feels better about his lack of action. In reality, the ‘could’ should be replaced. This is all he needs, but he fails to act on it, to make it a reality. 

“...my drink? Edide?”

Eddie blinks, turning his head just a little to see Valeria looking at him, her lashes long and thick. The bass is still vibrating through the speakers. “What was that?” he shouts back to heard over the music.

“My drink,” she calls out. “Do you want the rest of it? I’m stuffed after dinner and the beer’s gonna disagree with me if I keep piling on more.” Her laughter just catches onto his eardrums. 

Eddie holds out his empty cup and nods. “I’ll see what I can do for ya.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want.”

Eddie shakes his head, unraveling his fingers from hers to take her cup and stacking it into his own. About half of it is gone already, it shouldn’t be too hard. But even Eddie will admit that he might not have space for it after the slice of apple pie at dinner. “That cup alone was half my water bill, it’s getting drunk.”

Valeria pats his stomach. “Don’t bust your gut though.”

“Ha ha,” Eddie returns. “A true comedian you are.” 

“I know!” Her smile is bright and Eddie catches it even in the dimmed lights of the theater. His face warms as if he were standing out in the sun on a summer day. His rebuttal catches in his throat and he can only manage an eye roll before slipping his arm around her shoulders. She tucks herself back into his side, arms winding around his waist in the process. It feels like a cocoon--the shared warmth of their bodies. Eddie never has to leave this. He can stay here, with Valeria’s breath tickling just a little at his neck, listening to bands he’s loved since he was a teenager. It’s all this moment needs. 

It’s an awkward shuffle out of the venue. Eddie doesn’t want to leave just yet, wants to soak in every last echoing sound of the instruments. Wants to feel his bottles rattle to a stop, but they’re at the start of the row just about and there’s some guys to Eddie’s left that turn and he knows they’re looking to get out. Valeria and Eddie should too. It’s still a two hour drive back to Hawkins. So he follows behind Valeria, climbing up the step. Once outside he stops, tugging on Valeria’s hand to pause her too and turns to stare at the building. They haven’t dropped from the curb just yet to head back to Eddie’s truck. The seal of the moment hasn’t been broken. Once they step out into the parking lot, the reality all comes back. But until then, the cocoon remains intact. 

“Not ready to go just yet?” Valeria asks. 

“Gotta soak it all in,” Eddie returns. Because it is one part ritual for Eddie just to take a few extra seconds to soak in the adrenaline, to let the thundering of his chest still slowly. Eddie tugs on Valeria’s hand. 

“Yes, Eddie?”

He tugs again and she steps in closer. Eddie’s faster, cupping her jaw with his palms to bring her in even closer. “Have I told you thank you?” He knows he hasn’t and as Valeria goes to speak, he’s already talking. Mouth moving faster than his brain at this point. The words are just falling. “Because thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chants, kissing her lips with each phrase. The kisses get longer and long. 

She had a piece gum at some point, Eddie can tell. Her breath minty against what should've been the bitter bite of beer. But Eddie doesn’t really care. He’s just lost in the softness of her lips. The way Valeria ever so tentatively lets Eddie lick up into her mouth and melts into his embrace. Eddie knows when Valeria pulls out of the kiss first, slowly and with pecks to soothe the separation, he’s going to thank her properly. Because that’s how the moment should be savored, down to the last drops on his tongue. 

“You’re welcome, Eddie,” she whispers against his lips. 

“Don’t thank me just yet. Haven’t thanked you properly yet.”

“Oh, I. No, I don’t--”

“Please,” Eddie interrupts, hands slipping from her face down to her waist. He continues on, soothing her sides. “Please,” he whispers. It doesn’t even sound like Eddie. The whine in his own throat sounds desperate and sure Eddie is desperate to have Valeria again, make her come undone on his tongue, his fingers, his cock. But he won’t push her. He’ll plead but whatever she says now will override any desire he has. 

“It’s two hours back to your place,” Valeria laughs. 

“You say that like I don’t know, sweetheart. But there’s motels around here.”

She shakes her head. “Gonna make you wait.”

Eddie groans, taking a small nibble at her plump bottom lip. “You fucking tease.”

“And I’m driving back.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie barks out between tufts of laughter. “That’s not fair.”

Valeria takes Eddie by the back of his head and brings his gaze to hers. “Never said it would be.”

The words bring a shiver to Eddie’s spine. But all he can do is close his eyes on the shaky exhale. Never said it would be. Eddie’s not sure if it’s a threat or a promise, but he likes the sound of both. None of this was probably fair but they were doing it anyway. Hell, Eddie would in a heartbeat. It may not be fair, but it for damn sure wasn’t going to stop Eddie. 

Eddie slips the keys into her pockets, giving it a heavy handed pat. “Then let’s get this show on the road, hmm, darling?”

______________________

Eddie doesn’t waste time. It’s a pride of his to know in his older age that he doesn’t waste too much time--he’ll waste some, but never too much. The clocks are ticking up and past one in the morning, but all Eddie is focused on is Valeria. She sighs into his open mouth. He swallows it down. If he could tuck Valeria up under his ribs, he would. If he could carry Valeria in his fingertips, he would. Eddie drinks in every sound. Valeria giggles at the tickle of his scruff at her neck and it makes his bones vibrate. He could fall apart right then and there when Valeria laughs. 

“What’s so funny huh?” Eddie laughs in her neck. 

“Just tickles,” Valeria hums. 

Eddie skates his fingers over the soft skin of her belly, biting at the skin of her breast. Valeria gasps at the sensation but he can hear the smile in voice and that’s all that matters. All that matters is the way when Eddie takes, Valeria gives. All that matters is when Eddie gives, Valeria takes. Valeria’s nails trail over the skin of his back and shoulders, to his chest. Whatever fear he could have about the scars always melts away. Valeria touches him like glass, like she can’t quite believe it’s him in her hands. And while it might seem frustrating, Eddie appreciates the tenderness. It reminds him that there are people who still care. There are still people who may want to consume but they do not do so maliciously. There are some people who may want to pour back. It’s a rarity, but Eddie knows he needs the reminder.

The fire in Eddie’s gut only burns brighter. It’s messy, Valeria dripping down on his chin, but he doesn’t care. Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling like she can’t get him close enough. Maybe she can’t. Maybe Eddie can’t be close enough either. He holds her legs down, knowing Valeria likes to buck. But this isn’t about something quick and dirty. This is about taking their time--sunlight and responsibilities be damned. Eddie’s going to drink down every drop. 

“Fuck,” Valeria whines, high in her throat. 

Eddie can hear the strain in her voice. He laughs into her thighs, leaning up to watch Valeria’s heaving chest. “You doing okay up there, princess?” Eddie lazily drags a finger on her inner thigh. 

“Better than okay,” Valeria hums. “So fucking good.” 

“Oh, that’s what I like to hear,” Eddie grins before licking another stripe up Valeria’s cunt. She quakes when his tongue hooks around her clit. And though Valeria teased him by making him behave on the two hour drive because she was driving, Eddie is also going to tease her back by lapping from her--slowly, let his own body feed from her pleasure. 

Everything her body can take Eddie wants. Eddie doesn’t care how he gets it. He’s always been one up for an adventure. But he must admit, when Valeria drags him up her body, still heaving from her orgasm, and seals their lips together in a kiss, Eddie thinks it’s going to be a reprieve. He thinks maybe they’ll just take a minute or two. What he’s not expecting is Valeria’s push up, hooking one leg around his waist and then onto his back Eddie goes. It’s not without a laugh, not without his own tease and wiggle of his brow.

“Oh, what a view,” he hums as Valeria settles on his waist. 

“How does it feel down there?” she laughs. 

“It’s a cool 50 degrees down here, I’d say.”

“Prepare for a warm front.”

He wants to ask what specifically that means but the words don’t get off his tongue before Valeria’s teasing him with her fingers. Eddie twitches in her hand, anticipation of what she might do next seeping into his skin and dripping into the sheets. Valeria leans in, mouth opening but she just breathes. Right over Eddie’s face. He whines, not meaning to, and Valeria tightens her hand around his cock. She mocks his whine just a little, laughing. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No,” Eddie heaves out. “A pretty vixen has my dick though in her hands and I would really appreciate anything she wants to give me though.”

“A wordsmith, aren’t you?” 

“I try.” The words all take every ounce of Eddie’s strength to get out. Valeria’s started to lazily stroke him. It’s wet, more than he’s sure his own precum but he doesn’t dare think about Valeria reaching between her own legs to lube him up. No, the thought would absolutely make Eddie blow his load in half a second. 

The tugs increase in pace, tighter and a little faster. More and more until Eddie’s throwing his head back against the pillows. “Shit, shit, shit, Valeria, please,” he cries out. The pace doesn’t feel like it’s sustainable like something’s going to give, either Eddie or Valeria, but so far, Valeria grins against him. Maybe she won’t tire out anytime soon. 

“Please what? Need full words, baby.”

“Please,” Eddie huffs. “Anything. I’ll take fucking anything, honey. Shit.” His toes are curling. Everything in his lower gut is on fire and he swears he’s never going to actually feel anything like this again. Nothing can be as good as this. 

“Anything anything?” Valeria asks.

Eddie can only nod, eyes screwed up tight, holding her hips in his hands. She’s so close, hovering right over him. He can feel the occasional drip onto his length adding more slick to the mess between them. “Anything,” he whimpers. 

Valeria sinks, a sigh leaving her lips and Eddie’s eyes fly open. “Oh shit,” he huffs. Valeria lifts up and then settles again, hips grinding. Her warmth spreads like wildfire. Eddie’s clawing at Valeria to get her to bounce on him again, to create a rhythm that they can both enjoy. But she’s content for the moment just to grind. 

“Tsk, tsk,” Valeria mocks from above him. “Don’t be greedy.”

“Oh, fuck, easy for you to say,” Eddie returns. He wants more bite in the words, but he can’t get it out. All he can do is pant and pray. Eddie’s floating. He feels it before he can name it. But his head it gone from his shoulder and he doesn’t care that Valeria mocks his every sound. He doesn’t care that her teeth are bruising his skin. He doesn’t care that he’s lost all his senses. All that fucking matters is feeling the hot breath on his skin. All that matters is the way Valeria bounces on him, a greedy pace that makes him feel needed. How desperate it is just to be needed no matter the format, but Eddie’s beyond a rational understanding. There’s nothing rational left here as the room fills with the echoes of their moans. 

“Holy--” The swear doesn’t get enough air from Eddie before he can cums. All the air leaves his lungs as Valeria works atop him, hips rising and falling back onto his length. Maybe Eddie got this whole thing wrong. Maybe instead of getting everything Valeria had, she was going to get everything he had. Maybe they’d always wind up like this, giving and taking and giving and taking all in equal measures. Valeria falls into his chest, panting in her own right. She shivers against him and Eddie wraps her up tight in his arms. It’s a give and a take. 

“Do you want pancakes in the morning?” Eddie asks into her temple after they’ve cleaned up. It took a few minutes before either one of them got feeling back into their limbs but it did happen eventually. 

Valeria nods, curled into Eddie’s side. “You got blueberries?”

“I can do that for you.” It shouldn’t be too hard. Eddie can wake before she does and go out to the store to get a cartoon or maybe it would be better to get a frozen bag. But either way, Eddie feels himself drifting into sleep thinking about Valeria in his arms. 

___________________________

The thing about their goodbyes is that when they should be permanent, they never feel that way. At least not with Eddie and Valeria. There’s something underneath them that always says more, says it’s goodbye just for now. Maybe this time will be like all the others. Eddie holds Valeria in the doorframe, in the liminal space of inside and outside his trailer. “You’ll still call, right?” Eddie asks. He needs those. What would fill his days if not for work and Valeria.

“I’ll still call,” Valeria promises. She looks at him, eyes swimming and Eddie knows. He knows that things are shifting. It feels like an earthquake beneath his feet that one one else can feel. This goodbye won’t be like the others because the thing neither one of them demands at that goodbye is how frequent the calls will be. And maybe Eddie knew it was a good idea not to ask. Maybe even in all his disbelief he still knows the ultimate outcome. A week from the concert and Eddie only gets five calls. They’re just as long as they’ve always been, but not every day. Two weeks from the concert and the calls drop from five to four. Then four to three. Three to two. 

Two months pass and it feels like a drought. The calls happen, usually once a week. And then they shorten. It’s passing on how they’re doing--abbreviated retellings of the mechanic’s shop and the store. It’s just enough to feel like it’s a substantive conversation but not what they used to be--what would take hours, only take thirty minutes tops. The bottom of the barrel becomes higher and higher in their conversation more and more silences that feel much too awkward than before. The air is thick. Valeria’s breathing has filled Eddie’s ears for the past two minutes and she keeps stopping and starting her sentences. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Eddie teases. “Did you eat chocolate? You know you’re mildly allergic to it right?”

Valeria laughs. It’s the first time Eddie’s heard it in weeks this full and this loud. It makes his chest tight at the sound and he’s so fucking thankful for it in the moment, he exhales deeply into the receiver. “No, no chocolate, Eddie.”

“Damn, I was sort of hoping maybe you had so you could finally answer my question about what’s your favorite M&M.”

This bout of laughter is deeper and Eddie feels his body sag in relief. He’s on a fucking roll and it feels so much better. Eddie feels like he can breathe. “The answer is clearly the red ones.”

“Atta girl,” Eddie cheers. Their laughter is shared and soft. Just as quickly as the tension is cut it returns. Eddie reclines into the wall next to his fridge. He hasn’t forgotten what Valeria said at the start of his call. How he barely got his greeting out before Valeria was barrelling through hers. “You said you called because you had something to tell me.”

Eddie tries not to panic when Valeria agrees that she does has something to tell him. Because it was coming--the end. It was always coming and it marched so freely because Eddie didn’t do anything to stop it. He was too chicken shit to do anything. Even if the world was going to shift again at least this time he would have nothing left to hold onto it. Maybe the world would just swallow him whole. 

“It’s-I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just like always, putting one word in front of the other, sweetheart.”

“But it’s--it’s going to change everything.”

It’s at that sound that Eddie pushes back up. He’s not sure if he’s bracing himself for the inevitable or there’s the last spring of hope he’s holding onto surfacing. “Change everything?”

“I’m-I’m pregnant, Eddie.”

Yeah, there’s that earth swallowing him whole and spitting him out on his face. But it’s the one fucking thing he needs. It’s ice water on his face. It’s a broken nose. It’s the time Wayne had to buzz his hair back in middle school because he’d gotten it so tangled up that no one could really get it back into order. 

A reset. A hard one that that. 

A wake up call. 

“Do you plan to keep the baby?” Eddie asks. 

“I-I want to, yes. But I know you don’t necessarily want kids.”

“I want this kid,” Eddie confesses softly. 

“No, you don’t have to do that. Tammie and Chels are willing to help me out.”

“Val, I’m not just saying anything. I want to be there for you and for my kid. I love you, you know that right?” 

The words are out again before Eddie can process what they actually will do and mean. But he’d already been dropped on his face once today, learning that Valeria was pregnant with his kid. What was a second drop in the grand scheme of things. 

“But not like that,” Valeria deflects. 

“No,” Eddie returns stern. He doesn’t need her to assume anything anymore. Assumptions had gotten them in this place—at least on Eddie’s part. He’s assumed his way into this mess but he wouldn’t let it get worse. Not when a closed door cracked again. It wouldn’t do that too many more times. “Exactly like that. I fucked up before. I’m not going to fuck up twice. I love you, Valeria. Do you hear me? I love you. You were leaving and I did nothing to make you stay. I didn’t show effort. I just wanted to keep things like they were and hope bare minimum was enough. It wasn’t. It wasn’t enough and fuck, I’m not doing that again. I’m not asking you to pity. I just need you to hear me. I’m sorry. You were right. Effort is so important and you’re important. And I’m sorry I let you go.”

“I mean I left. I wasn't going to hurt myself if you weren’t ready to commit. I know that sounds harsh. I was walking away, Eddie. But the thing I wouldn’t do is lie to you. I wouldn’t try to hide anything from you.” It’s not that it’s harsh. It just stings. Valeria had walked away—not all at once but things had shifted between them. Eddie didn’t fight the current. He had no reason too when Valeria asked if their relationship would ever reach for more he’d all but stomped it out. It’s not penance; it’s just a natural consequence. Every action has a reaction.  “You are never one to mince words.” 

“I’m sorry Eddie. I just wanted to tell you. You deserve to know.” 

“Don’t.” Eddie knows that tone. A resolution she’s decided well before this conversation. “That’s still my kid. I know I messed up but please don’t cut me out of my own kid’s life.”

“No, no. I didn’t—I’m sorry. I meant it like you should know. You need to know so we can decide what to do next, ya know?” 

“I’m a fool. I’ll admit. I am the court fucking jester but I—the thought that I’m a dad or going to be a dad. It means everything.” It’s the first time he’s thought about it like that. He’s going to be a dad. He’s going to have a kid—come hell or high water. He blinks back tears. Some fall over his lash line and he doesn’t move to clear them. “I can do this. I can do it right. I promise Val. I can.” 

“I know you can, Eddie. I’ve always known. I just—I had to take you at your actions before. I still do.” Her voice cracks, the wet sound of her tears thickening her voice. 

“I’ll show it. I’ll put in the work.” It’s silent. Eddie wonders if Valeria’s silence is bad but he barrels on before he can think too much about it.  “How long have you known?” Eddie asks. 

“About a month? Missed my period a couple of times and thought something was up. Took some at home tests. I go in two weeks to the OBGYN to see if I am for sure.”

“What day?”

“Friday, the 16th at 11 AM.”

“Text me the address, okay? I’ll be there. I’m going to be there for everything, I swear, Val.” He knows they’ll have to discuss if anyone is moving, which will mostly likely be him. He’d hate to uproot her in the middle of something like this. He could find another shop to work at. Eddie can and will do whatever necessary now to ensure he doesn’t let Valeria slip through his fingers again. 

“I’ll text it to you. Promise. And I’m sorry. For dropping a bomb like this on you.” 

Eddie giggles. Sure it is a bomb, and not what he anticipated when she said she had news, but at this point it is what it is. There’s no going back. “I’m sorry to have done it to you.” The smile is evident in his voice.

“No, you’re not. Admit it. Just fucking admit it,” Valeria laughs. 

“I mean, if you’re yanking my leg. The picture of you pregnant is pretty hot so less sorry. But we probably should’ve been more careful.” He can’t remember if there was a condom involved or not. He was usually more on top of it, even if his sex life was inactive aside from Valeria. It was important to keep up with the expiration dates and keep them on hand. It’s not like Eddie can even blame the alcohol. He’d barely finished the second beer. He was in most rights in his right mind. 

“It’s the antibiotics I was on, according to the nurses I spoke with. I’d just finished some two days before seeing you due to a root canal and they can make birth control less effective. As we now see.” 

“Oh shit. I didn’t even know that. How—how are you? I mean this for real. I don’t want bullshit, Val. Not after what I know.” 

Her exhale crackles through the receiver. The beats feel long—like stretched out taffy that keeps stretching and keeps stretching. He thinks the moment may never break and then Valeria speaks. “I’m scared, Eddie. I’m so fucking scared.”

Eddie spins, dropping his head into the wall, voice falling into a whisper as he speaks. God, he so wishes he was there with her. Not that he thinks she’d want him there immediately. But he wishes he could be. “Hey, it’s alright to be scared. I’m the biggest scaredy cat there is. Being afraid is okay. What’s got scared you?”

“Everything. We live in different cities. I have no clue how to take care of a baby. Morning sickness is a bitch. I’m starving but I can’t keep anything down. Haven’t pooped in a week. Pregnancy really isn’t all it’s glammed up to be.” 

“Not shitting for a week and not being able to keep anything down sounds horrendous. It’s okay if you feel a little insane right now. Are you off tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. I am.” 

“How far are Tammie and Chels from you?”

“They’re planning to come over anyway, tomorrow.” 

“Okay, good, good. What time?”

“One, I think. What-what are you doing, Eddie?”

He shakes his head, though she can’t see it. He knows that she knows. It’s who they are together--sentiment of each other in ways that should be creepy. “Can you get water down?”

“It’s a fight some days. But you’re changing the subject. Eddie, what are you planning?”

“Nothing, Val. I just want to make sure you’re okay, since I can’t be there.” From the living room, Eddie catches the chime of his phone. It goes off once. A text and he thinks it’s just the address Valeria promised to send, so he doesn’t bother going to look at the message. “For your appointment on the 16th, would you-would you be okay if I stayed the weekend with you? I want to talk properly. Face-to-face.”

“Yeah, that’d be okay. I think it would be good to talk.”

His phone chimes again and this time, Eddie does look in the direction. Not too many people had his cell phone number. The kids did, Harrington, Buckley, Older Wheeler, Byers, and Valeria. Gareth had it for emergencies--namely about the shop. And no one texted him. He was shit at it--hated it in the way that he had muster through it when absolutely necessary but much preferred just talking to someone. 

“There’s two addresses I sent. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess,” Valeria states. There’s a bit of something that catches at the end and from far away, Eddie catches a cough. 

“You okay?”

“I think one of my neighbors is cooking fish and the smell is getting to me. It’s-” Another gag interrupts her. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Tell your neighbors I told them no more seafood. They can fight me on it.”

Valeria laughs--soft and mostly from her nose it sounds. “I’ll tell them. I’m sorry to cut this so abruptly. But it’s gonna get bad over here in a minute and I don’t think you want the sounds of someone vomiting in your ear.”

“I would. For you. But if you gotta go, I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I thought you weren’t planning anything, hmm?” 

Eddie catches what sounds like a smile in her voice. He grins. “Just take care of yourself, Valeria.”

“See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie listens to the dial tone for several minutes after the phone call ends. A static in his ears but the longer he stays on the line, the longer he has with Valeria. Tomorrow, he’s got to get his life together for tomorrow. Eddie slams his phone back onto the receiver and scurries to his phone. The first message comes through and mentions Dr. Johnson is Suite 1121. But then he reads the second address, Apartment 23C. Tomorrow. 

“Eddie?” Gareth answers on the third ring. “You alright, dude? You never use your cellphone.”

“Can you cover for me this weekend at the shop and the weekend starting the 16th?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Is everything okay?”

“I-It’s Valeria.”

“Val? I thought--it’s been months.”

“She’s, uh, well, she’s pregnant and I really have to be there. I’m gonna have a kid.” The sentence makes his face lift, a grin pressing at the corners of his mouth. 

“Fuck, dude. Congrats! Yeah, yeah, I got this weekend and the 16th. No worries. If you need anything else, let me know!”

“I will. Thanks, Gareth.”

Eddie’s expecting--well, he doesn’t really know what he’s expecting when he knocks on Valeria’s door. Maybe she lied. Maybe she’d kick him out and tell him to fuck off. He saw her car, but he doesn’t know what Tammie and Chels drive well enough to know if he’s going to be greeted by the lot of them once the door opens. Either way, Eddie raps his fist against the door, waits two, maybe three seconds and then brings his hands back up to knock again. 

Just before his fist connects, the locks click and the door swings open. Valeria stands, face a little hollowed, but still with the cascade of dark brown corkscrew curls. They’re pulled to the top of her head and fall like bangs against her forehead. She smiles, stepping back behind the door. The gray t-shirt displays a college on it; it’s a little baggy, but still fits her mostly well. “Hi, Eddie. I’m sorry I’m such a mess right now.”

“No, no, you’re not a mess,” Eddie returns, gesturing to see if he’s okay to come in. Valeria nods. “It’s early.”

Eddie’s hit with the small of something like vanilla, maybe something deeper too. And around the edges of the scent, it smells of cleaner. The apartment is bright, thanks to the blinds being open. The couch is dark brown, blue throw pillows. A white knitted blanket is thrown over the back of it. The wooden TV stand holds a decent size TV, DVD cases resting on it. Eddie slips out of his shoes quickly, noting her hardwood floors though she has a thick shaggy rug in the living room. 

“You didn’t have to clean for me,” Eddie laughs. He slips the duffle bag off his shoulders and places it right in front of the couch. 

“Needed to clean anyways. You hungry?” 

“I-I ate already. Thanks.” There’s a couple feet between them, Valera leaning against one of her bookcases--there’s two slender ones on the side resting against the wall between the two outward facing windows. Eddie stands still near the door. 

Valeria nods, arms folding under her chest. Her gaze doesn’t lift up to meet his. Eddie feels like he’s intruding, but she did agree to this. “I’m-I’m going to try and fail with some toast. Bathroom’s down the hall, first on the left. Whatever’s in the kitchen is free for you to consume. Feel free to watch whatever too.”

Eddie takes a tentative step forward, fingers just brushing over her forearm. “Valeria, can you look at me?”

She lifts her head, slowly. She looks tired--more so than Eddie’s ever seen her. Eddie cups her cheeks, thumbs brushing the bottoms of her eyes. It makes his chest ache. He hopes she hasn’t been like this for the entire month and he hopes it won’t last the entire pregnancy either. “That’s it darling,” he praises once her sight is level on him. 

 “I’m glad you’re here.” It’s a soft whisper but Eddie catches it all the same. Her lower lip wobbles and before the tears even fall, Eddie hears it. The truth of the matter is that she’s scared and while she had friends, it was still a lot. 

“I’m happy to be here too. But you can let it out now, okay? I’m here.”

Valeria falls into his body, face buried into junction between his shoulder and neck. She shakes--like a leaf in a winter wind, Valeria shudders against him. “I don’t want to do this alone,” she sobs. 

“You won’t. You won’t do this alone. I’m here. Tammie’s here. Chels is too. You’re not alone.”

“Promise? I know it’s stupid. But I—,”

Eddie cups be back of her head, brushing ever so gently at the hairs at the nape of her neck. If only he could take the shakes, if only Eddie could pull the dead out of her bones. “No. It’s not stupid. I promise I’ll be here for you. You won’t be alone.” 

_____________________________

Eddie’s early. He knows that--knew it the moment he left his house at 7 in the morning. But he hadn’t been able to fall back asleep. He woke around 4:30 in the morning, a thick heat consuming his chest. He turned the fan up, cracked open a window, but nothing brought in enough of a chill to allow him to drift back to sleep. When his clock ticked over to 6, he called it--showered, got dressed, ate breakfast and then got on the road. Being early be damned, Eddie was not going to show up late to this. Besides, the earlier he was the more time they had to talk. It seemed like all they did these days--talk, trying to plan out a future even when it seems so daunting. 

The front door has become an all too familiar sight. It’s a little after 9 now so Eddie knocks--twice and then waits. Valeria’s usually not far when he knocks. Just like always, the door opens a couple beats later. Valeria’s face is a little fuller now. She can keep food down more consistently now. But still struggles with seafood and beef. Eddie’s just grateful she’s not barfing up everything she eats anymore. 

“Come here often?” Eddie smiles. 

“Apparently you do.” Valera waves him inside. He toes off his shoes and drops the bag down in front of the couch. “Sorry to make you do this trek so much.”

“No, you need the appointments. I don’t mind. Besides, I’m sure the guys at the shop are thankful to get rid of me for a couple days here and there.”

“As long as you’re sure. Hungry? I just finished up some french toast and don’t mind sharing.”

Eddie nods, finger tips warm and itching to pull at one of the curls. He resists though. The casual displays of physical intimacy are at a snails pace. They hugged, occasionally held hands, but it was clearly a line that Valeria wasn’t going to cross soon so Eddie does his best to respect that limit. “I can go for a piece, if you’re sharing.”

Valeria’s kitchen is smaller than Eddie’s, a byproduct of the way the kitchen is sectioned off from the rest of the apartment. But it’s cozy to be in--the counters are lined with kitchen utensils in holders, flowers (a set that Eddie sent a few days prior and then another set that he’s not sure where they came from). There’s plates and bowls set out with the french toast, a fruit salad made by hand, and bacon in them. “Bacon okay too?”

“Fine with me.” Eddie hadn’t eaten much before leaving, knowing Valeria would offer up something once he arrived. If feeding someone is a love language, Valeria speaks it fluently. Eddie doesn’t mind though. He’s learned to speak it--accepting the offerings, finishing off what Valeria swears she can’t. If the stress weren’t getting to him like it was, he’s sure he would’ve gained ten pounds. 

“Everything okay? You look like you’re being haunted.”

Eddie takes the stretched out plate, watching the way her eyes assess him. They would always get each other. “Worried sick about you some days and making sure we can do this, feasibly, you know.”

“About that,” Valeria starts, sighing a little. Her own fork clinks as she assembles her plate too. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees when she looks at him. Her eyes say it all--we’re going to have to do something, make some sort of change.

There’s a moment of silence. Like neither one of them truly wants to crack open the surface. Nothing changes if they don’t go deeper. Valeria speaks first and the moment finally cuts loose from their shared fear. “I could move to Hawkins. Try and transfer to that GAP.”

Eddie scoffs, sliding his plate onto the dining room table before facing Valeria fully. He gets the gesture, what she’s probably offering, but the last thing he want if for Valeria to be miserable. “You’d hate living in Hawkins, Val. I’ve lived there my whole life and it’s not getting better.”

“Well, I don’t want you to sacrifice the car shop. You’re managing the shop. All your friends are there in Hawkins.”

“I’m not pulling you away from the people who can support you right now. You said so yourself you don’t want to do this alone. Tammie and Chels are your rocks right now and I think it’s important you feel supported.”

“You matter too, Eddie. I’m sure Steve and Robin are keeping you sane right now.”

“They are,” he admits. He talked to either one of them at least once a day. Buckley is ecstatic at the prospect of a tiny human addition. But Harrington, Harrington was keeping Steve on the straight and narrow. There were many times Eddie found himself in the aisle in the grocery store staring at the bottles. His fingers itched to grab one, thinking if he could just forget the fear and the anxiety it make things so much easier. Harrington’s cellphone number is etched into the tips of Eddie’s fingers from how many times he’s dialed it. Eddie doesn’t really want to drink. He just wants something to take the edge off. Drinking was stupid though.

“Is that why you’re building muscle? Challenging Steve now?”

Eddie lets himself clamber backwards into the edge of the dining room table at the jab to his bicep. He hisses like it hurts, though it doesn’t. “Be careful. I’m sensitive.”

Valeria snorts, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. “Need someone to rub your back?”

Eddie lets the tuft of laughter fall from his lips. “Harrington’s suggested I go to the gym when I feel…out of it.”

“Out of it?”

Eddie shrugs, pushing up to help her. He closes the cabinet for her and pulls out the jug of orange juice. “Out of it…you’re not the only one scared. I worry I’m going to fuck it all up. When that happens, I think about doing stupid shit.”

“Stupid shit? Eds, I don’t--you can talk to me.”

“It’s not that I think about drinking myself to death. But just. It’s stupid.”

“So you think about drinking? When you’re out of it?”

Eddie nods at the question. “Dad was an alcoholic. Never violent. Just…couldn’t function without it sometimes.”

Her eyes widen, the realization falling deeply onto her face. “No, no, you talk to me, Eddie. Okay? You call me. I don’t care what time it is. You call me, okay? Please.”

Eddie wants to recoil. Her fingers are cold from the juice, but her hold is firm and Eddie can only nod. “I’ll call you. When it gets bad.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Valeria nods. Her eyes stern, but her runs her hands down Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you can’t talk to me.”

“I don’t--it’s just I know you’re dealing with a lot. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m piling on.”

“You don’t. It’s a me thing.” Because it’s Eddie’s own anxieties. He knows he could talk to Valeria, but he doesn’t want to add on when she may not have the capacity. “I don’t want to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden, Eddie. A pain in my ass, but never a burden.”

“Sometimes I forget there’s a difference.” Eddie’s not sure where that came from, when the lines had gotten blurred from him. But it’s the truth. He’d spent so much time trying not to be a bother, that he couldn’t tell when people wanted him around sometimes. 

Valeria steps in closer, body pressing flush into his. There’s just a few inches between their faces, but Valeria closes that gap too, pressing her forehead into his. Eddie encases her waist with his arms. It’s a slightly strange feeling, the slight bump of her stomach pressed into his. “Then let me remind you of the difference, okay?” 

“Okay,” Eddie whispers, eyes fluttering close. Valeria goes to pull away, but Eddie squeezes. He doesn’t want to let her go just yet. “Can I have one more minute?”

“Of course, you can.”

Eddie misses this, holding her close. He’s missed the way she slots against him, head tucking into his shoulder. They’re like puzzle pieces slotted together to bring to life a fuller picture. Her breath tickles against his neck, but Eddie leans into the feeling. It lets him know she’s still real. 

“Did you get a new body wash?” Valeria asks after a minute.

“Is it bad?”

“No, no, it smells really good.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, it’s new.”

“Smells good enough to eat.”

“No, that’s what your french toast is for. You can’t make our baby a cannibal without their consent first.” Eddie noses her temple. She still smells the same. Always has. It’s a true solace. When he leaves, his clothes still smell like her and he can carry the scent for a day or two longer in his jacket and hair of the candles she burns, the perfume she wears on occasion. Eddie cups the back of her head, lips pressing into the warm skin of her forehead. “We’ll make it, right?”

“We have so far. I have faith,” Valeria returns. There’s no hesitation in her response and Eddie thinks maybe he can believe that too. They resume their breakfast, hands finding each others under the table, sitting shoulder to shoulder instead of across from each other. 

“Do you think moving into Indy is a good idea?” Eddie poses. He’s situated at Valeria’s vanity as she scraps through all the items in her closet. She pulls out a sweater--baby blue, and holds it up in front of her. “It’s cute.”

Valeria huffs and throws it back into the closet. “You said that about the last top. And I don’t think it’s a bad one. When are you thinking about it? My lease is up in April, another two months.”

Eddie’s situation was a tad more complicated. He’d paid off the mortgage on the trailer a few years ago, but he was still paying the land rent. If he wanted to move, he’d have to find a way to sell the trailer. Which wouldn’t be terrible, but it would be tedious. “Is this about the sweater or something else?”

“I don’t feel like any of my clothes fit right.”

“You’re growing a baby. Things are going to grow and change for a little bit. I really do think the blue top is the right one.”

Valeria nods and pulls it back out. “So Indy? You’re sure about that?”

“It’s close enough to home. Neither one of us has bullshit from our hometowns toto worry about. Still close enough that folks can visit.”

“What do you think about Franklin? Closer to Indy, but maybe not as crowded?”

“Oh, God, babe,”  Eddie fakes a gag. “No. We are both not built for a town like that.”

Valeria snorts, slipping into a pair of black leggings. “Okay, fair. Franklin may not be our cup of tea. But you sure you want to dive into city life? A small town boy like yourself,” Valeria’s voice dips into a slight, albeit slightly off Southern twang. 

Eddie pushes up, noticing a slight struggle Valeria’s diving into with the pants. He kneels in front of her, hand coming to her knee to settle her squirming. Eddie pulls the excess fabric up and off her heels. He then stands to help get the rest up her hips. “I think it’s time for the small town boy like me to get the hell out of there.” Satisfied that the pants are up and straight, he taps the end of her nose. “Gold earrings?”

“When do I ever go for anything different?”

“Never. Can I choose?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Eddie heads over to the vanity, fingers tracing over her jewelry. “Leave the shoes alone and let me get them please.” He spots her glare in the mirror and laughs as she settles onto the edge of the bed. It’s not a hard choice, Eddie’s always gravitated to simple. But he still reviews each pair of earrings before settling on a pair of gold holds with her name written on the inside of them. 

“You know I’m not so pregnant I can’t do this by myself.”

“And do I look like I give a shit?” Eddie returns, grabbing a pair of slip on Vans for her. 

“Not in the slightest,” she sighs. “So Indy?”

“If you’re okay with it?” Eddie counters, helping her into her shoes. “No, let’s go. We have an appointment to make. A baby to see!”

Valeria takes his outstretched hands. “I think it’s a boy.”

“Nah,” Eddie laughs. “Totally a girl.”

_____________________________

She told him he could do this. Yet his fingers still shake. His body tells him to call Harrington like he always does when it gets like this. But he watches Valeria’s name in the phone in slightly blurry vision. The grocery store is a shitty place to have a moment like this, but it’s where Eddie finds himself. In another month Valeria’s lease will lapse. She’s already started selling some things in her house. Eddie’s still hasn’t found someone to take over the trailer. Hasn’t started packing up anything. They have a place they like in Indy, but are on the waitlist until June. In the meantime, Valeria’s taking a position at The GAP in the mall and Eddie’s transitioning Gareth and Jeff to take over the shop. 

But Eddie hasn’t done a goddamn thing to get movement on the trailer--packing, selling or otherwise. And fuck the paralysis that comes with the fear. Before Eddie can over think it too much, he presses SEND. The phone rings and rings in his ear. “Shit, shit, shit. She’s probably at work, Munson. She told you she had a shift.”

“Eddie? Everything okay?

“Oh, thank fuck,” Eddie exhales. 

“Baby? What’s going on?”

“Tell me to walk out of this grocery store, please. I don’t need it.”

“Eddie, get out of that aisle, please. Okay. It’s okay if you’re out of it. If it’s too much, but you don’t need anything on that aisle.”

One step. That’s all he gets. But if he hooks a left at the end of this aisle, he’ll run into the cookies. “I’m scared.”

“Why? What are you scared about?”

“We’re supposed to get the new place in June and I haven’t done anything. Nothing. Jack fucking shit. I’m just…stuck right now.”

“Want to vent or want some help?”

“I think I need Jesus and this is coming from me.” It’s not an answer. Eddie knows that, but it’s okay. “I just. I only got one step. There’s so many more.”

“Give me one more. One step is perfect. Just one more.”

He does. He takes another step away from the aisle. “What should I do? Just talk to me. Scream. I don’t care.”

“Enlist Dustin, Max, Lucas, and Erica. Yes, tell her I told her to be there because she will keep you all in line. Start just with your closet. What are clothes you don’t need anymore? Clear that out. Just one room at a time. You won’t be able to get through it all. It’s just a start.”

“But then who takes over the trailer? It’s paid off.”

“I’m sure the kids are probably feigning to get out from the parents. Maybe two of them are willing to take it over.”

Eddie gets to the end of the aisle and stops. It makes perfect sense. All he needed to do was take it in increments. Tiny pieces at a time. And while Harrington, Buckley, Wheeler and Byers all had places of their own. It didn’t meant the kids wouldn’t be looking for something else. The boys would probably enjoy having their own space. While Mike was still settling in from his post graduation life, Dustin and Lucas could forge something of their own. “Woman, you are a fucking genius. God damn.”

“You going to work out now?”

“I need to bypass the cookie aisle first. But why? Why are you saying it like that?”

“Nothing, no reason! But you might be able to transfer the paid off trailer to a couple of the kids and they can take over.”

“No, no, no. We are not bypassing the fact that you totally have the hots for my newly deeper defined biceps.”

“No, I don’t!” Valeria huffs. It’s indignant, fully. 

“Oh, yes you do, sweetheart. Yes, you do,” Eddie teases. He continues on, waving at Dustin who waves in return. “Just admit it, love. Just fucking admit it.”

“Eddie, I do not have the hots for your new deeper defined biceps or large pecs. Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s grin is deep. Outside in the fresh air, he feels like he can breathe again. “Yes, you do. Let me hear you say it.”

“Nope. Nope, this is about you.”

“Yes, it is about me. Flatter my ego, lovebug. Please.”

Valeria’s laughter is big and loud. Eddie’s chest surges with pride at the sound. “Eddie, no. I’m not going to admit that pregnancy hormones are raging. Nope, nope, nope.”

“Are they raging my dear?”

“Maybe,” Valeria grumbles. “But again, this isn’t about me. This is about you. You don’t have to have it all sorted right this second. We can take it one piece at a time.”

Eddie climbs into his truck, phone pressed to his ear by the work of his shoulder. “Yeah, one piece at a time. Okay, I can do that. I can gather the troops for the weekend. You don’t have anything this weekend either?”

“No, no, next appointment is the week after.”

Eddie nods. “Got it. It’s on my calendar already. The weekend, cleaning out my closet. Yeah, yeah, doable.”

“You can call me while you do it too. If that’ll help.”

“I’ll get distracted, with you on the line. Never get any work done.”

“I expect a report though. Itemized. Head to toe.”

Eddie nods. “I-I can do that. Thank you, Val.”

“You’re so welcome, Eds.”

“Enjoy the rest of your shift knowing I’m going to be very sweaty in the gym.”

Valeria groans. “Fuck you. Enjoy the workout. I’ll call you once I get home okay?”

“Sounds like a plan, sugar. Talk to you then.”

“You’re getting your rocks off on this, aren’t you?” Valeria asks through a laugh. 

“Only just a little,” Eddie answers. “Only just a little. I like making you sweat.”

“Just for that. The next time you visit, you’re rubbing my feet and you don’t get to control the remote.”

“Oh!” Eddie huffs. It's a ritual now during his visits. He sets up her foot spa--that he bought unnecessarily--and gives her a pedicure and foot rub. In return, Valeria gets to bliss out for a little bit and she forfeits all power over the remote. Eddie only teasingly stated that he’d only keep it up if he could control the remote to the TV and the color of the polish. Valeria freely relinquished the control. “That’s so not fair! If you tell me I can’t pick out the nail polish color, I’d rather you just take me out back and shoot me.”

“I’d never go that far, Eddie. Love you.”

He freezes, air catching in his throat. “Valeria.”

“I know what I said, Eddie. It’s not the pregnancy hormones. I’ve always loved you.”

“I-I don’t feel like I’ve earned that back. And I know it’s ridiculous but-”

“Eddie, you’re going on a spiral. Love isn’t earned. Trust is, but not love. You have never had to earn love and anyone who has told you otherwise is a dispshit. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I have always and will always love you. It took me a while to trust, to take a leap. But you’re too stinkin’ cute not to love.”

Eddie blinks. It’s only with the action that he realizes there are tears in his eyes. Snot drips down his nose and he sucks it back. He uses the back of his hand to clear his face. “I’m glad you trust me again. And I’m so fucking floored to hear you say that. To hear you say you love me. I love you too.”

“I know.” From faintly behind her, Eddie catches Valeria’s name called out. She sighs. “I’m sorry, Eds. I gotta go. They need up at the registers for something. I took my headset out to talk.”

“Yeah, no, no. I get it. Go. I’ll be here.”

“I’ll call you here soon.” Their goodbyes are clipped and Eddie drops his head to his steering wheel. I’ve always loved you. Oh even if the rest of the day is a disaster, Eddie’s never going to get a higher high. 

_____________________________

“She’s so stinkin’ tiny!” Eddie whispers. Valeria laughs, but Eddie doesn’t care, too caught up in the little girl in his arms. He’s repeated the mantra god only knows how many times since they brought her home. In the hospital Eddie wanted to keep his mind on getting Valeria through delivery. It’s a type of pain that he could never fully comprehend but sounded and appeared to be exhausting. Now Eddie can marvel. He can watch his baby girl’s face in blatant awe. 

“She doesn’t eat like she’s tiny though,” Val snorts. 

Eddie nods, taking the pad of his finger to trace her cheek. Denver Edith Munson in his arms--all seven pounds and 3 ounces of her. Though he’d argue there were built a few more ounces than before on her. She’s much too pale right now to see who she really will take after, but for the moment, Eddie sees the slope of Valeria’s brow and his nose. His entire universe feels wrapped up in a white and pink blanket. Denver’s eyes remain unopened but she has the cutest scrunch of her nose. There in the small dusting of freckles on her cheek, Eddie can see his heart resting in the constellation. A centimeter really in the grand destiny of the world but his little girl holds the essence of his heart on that one little cluster. 

“I’m going to teach you all sorts of things, kiddo, okay? Stuff that will give your Mom a heart attack, but it’s okay. She’ll go easy on you. You’ll probably be sick of me sooner rather than later. But god, I’m going to be there for everything, alright? Every single thing. Giant poops. Skinned knees. Boyfriends. Your first drink. License. I love you, you know? Love you so much.”

A soft grunt greets him in return, Denver’s face pinched with the nose. 

“Maybe that giant poop is sooner than you think,” Valeria teases. 

“Oh God, I can handle this. Totally. I can totally handle this,” Eddie mutters. He’s not freaking out. Never, it’s just poop. Plenty of people change diapers. It can’t be that hard. He’s watched Valeria do it. Nurses helped in the hospital. It’s not like it’s defusing a bomb. Changing a diaper is a reasonable task and something anyone can handle. 

“Want to tag me in?” Valeria asks. 

“No! Absolutely not. You need your rest.” 

“Start by getting a clean diaper, honey.” Valeria directs from the couch, watching from above. 

Eddie assembles all the necessities-- the changing mat, a fresh diaper, wipes, trash bag for the soiled diaper, a little bit of baby powder. “The poop guardian angel,” Eddie teases, popping the secure tabs on the soiled diaper. 

“Well, given that you have the new diaper upside down, I think it’s warranted.” 

Eddie balks. “I haven’t even gotten her cleaned up yet, what are you on?”

Valeria grins. “Just making sure you’re paying attention to the lecture.”

He flicks her off, and Valeria can only laugh. The sound bounces in their living room--a bright summer day in Indy surrounding them. There’s still some clouds in the sky and given how dry it’s been in the summer, there’s an expectation that the summer showers will come in heavier in the following weeks. The thunder still rattles Denver--the sound of her cries still breaking Eddie’s heart. Together they’ll get through though. Always together. 

Positive that Denver’s fresh top to bottom, Eddie slides the new diaper under her. “Now, we secure the tabs, and there! Bada bing bada boom! Easy peasy!” Eddie rubs his nose over Denver’s. “Do you feel secure, madam?”

A snort sounds from around them. It’s soft and sounds like it almost didn’t fully come out. “You’re such a dork.”

Eddie grins, looking up from Denver to Valeria. Her eyes are closed and he knows soon she’ll be drifting off for a nap. Not that he minds. There’s just dishes left and the laundry going in the dryer. Things he can surely handle to give Valeria a little extra sleep. “Your dork, though.” He nods down to the gold band on her finger. Not that she can see the motion. “Stuck with me.”

“I tossed out the receipt. I chose this,” Valeria grins, lifting her hand.

Eddie’s glad she did. It hadn’t been easy but the effort had been worth it in the end.  “Perfect. Because I wasn’t going to go quietly into that good night.” 

“I most certainly am. Right to sleep.” 

“Can you spare me just two minutes while I go wash my hands?” 

“Absolutely I can.” Valeria’s quick to scoop Denver up, slating her against the expanse of Val’s chest. Eddie’s knees pop as he stands. Surely being nearly 40 would do that but he’s met with barely concealed giggles. He lets it go with an eye roll, turning to head to the bathroom. “Hate when you walk away but I love to watch you go,” Valeria teases.

“You can’t steal my line! Totally unfair!” 

Eddie’s only in the bathroom for a couple minutes. Nothing long at all. But when he returns to the living room it’s quiet. Valeria’s light snores make barely a dent over the hum over the A/C unit. Denver is tucked under Valeria’s chin, one of Valeria’s hand on her back. The dryer shrills and Eddie shuffles down to the closet. He’s quick to shut off the noise and looks back down the hall to see if it’s awakened them. But it doesn’t seem to as they still rest comfortably on the couch. That’s a sight that Eddie thinks he would never want to get used to, so he’s always struck with a sense of awe and wonder each day. 

“Leave the fitted sheet, I’ll do it.”

Eddie giggles at the gruff sound of Valeria’s voice. “Thanks babe.” He should’ve at least expected Valeria to stir at the sound. 

“I swear I’ll be up in a minute. Just-just checking my eyeballs for cracks.”

“Keep checking them for as long as you need.”

Tagging: @munsonology @avidreader73 @2clones-1kamino

[scotianostra]

Steve Hislop the Scottish motorcycle racer was born on  11th January 1962.

Hizzy, as he was affectionately known once said “If I’d never thrown my leg over a bike, I’d never have lived.”

Robert Steven Hislop grew up in the village of Chesters, near Hawick in the borders. His father started the interest of both he and his brother Garry in motorcycle racing. This was short lived at the time as he lost his father and a few years later his brother was killed at Silloth circuit. He ended up with a serious alcohol problem which led into depression.

Hizzy thankfully recovered and began his Isle of Man road racing career in 1983 by finishing second in the newcomers’ race at the Manx Grand Prix.

On short circuits, his first championship success came when he won the 250cc British Championship in 1990. Superbike victory followed with the British Superbike Championship in 1995. Some attributed his success to James Whitham leaving the series mid-season to deal with cancer.

Although he did not take a BSB victory in 1996 or 1997, Hislop was hired by Rob McElnea’s dominant Cadbury’s Boost Yamaha team for 1998. The nature of the fight for the championship between Hislop & team mate, fellow Scot. Niall Mackenzie, was illustrated by a near-collision on the last lap at Snetterton which cost the team a 1-2 finish. Hislop generally matched his countryman before a serious crash took him out of title contention.

His last championship success came in 2002 when he won the British Superbike Championship riding a Ducati. A notable feature of his season resulted from Hislop lapping Donington Park circuit more quickly on a superbike than the fastest Moto GP machine: Hislop’s modified production Ducati was heavier and less powerful than the bespoke Grand Prix bikes.

The 1992 Senior TT was described as an absolute classic. It is often described as one of the best races in TT history.

After their successful 1991 TT on all conquering Honda RVF machines, Hislop and Carl Fogarty had not planned to return in 1992. However, they both lined up on the Glencrutchery Road that year on unfancied machinery: Hislop was ona Norton with Fogarty on a Yamaha. The Norton Hizzy rode had been developed on a shoe string budget when compared with the Japanese competition. John Player had no intention of backing Steve’s TT campaign but after scratching around for some support and with minimal testing time, the team headed for the Isle of Man.

Hislop’s Norton took to the circuit in the unconventional white livery of Steve’s long term sponsor Abus. Hislop and the team defied the bike’s detractors by taking a fine 2nd place in the opening TT F1 race. The bike proved it could complete 6 laps of the gruelling Snaefell Mountain Course in hot weather so the team looked forward to Friday’s Senior TT.

Hislop’s main rival was Foggarty, who started at number 4. Steve started at 19. Not only did this give Hizzy more traffic to contend with but it also gave the crowd an anxious wait as the officials calculated the time difference between them. As the race progressed, the two riders smashed records they set the previous year with Hislop taking a narrow advantage into the final lap. In a last-ditch attempt to catch Hislop, Fogarty recorded a record lap time of more than 123 mph on his Yamaha. It was all in vain however as Hislop guided the fly splattered Norton home to an historic win. This was one of Hislop’s greatest achievements and one of the most popular TT wins. Carl Fogarty’s lap record stood for 7 years.

Hislop and Fogarty went on to become two of Britain’s most successful motorcycle racers, winning many races and championships. It was the 1992 Senior TT that saw them battle together for the last time.

Described by some as a flawed sporting genius, success in the world championships never materialised for Hislop. This was possibly because of a self-destructive aspect to his character. The flaw may have led to a number of well-publicised clashes with other riders and teams in the British championships which hindered progress into international series.

Having lost his brother and many friends in motorcycle accidents, he made a point of never going to the funerals of fellow racers, saying:

“Some people might find that a bit callous. I only ever attend family ones and people find it a bit strange that I won’t go to a friend’s funeral, but it’s just my little way of shutting off.”

Steve Hislop died in a helicopter accident in July 2003, near Teviothead, Roxburghshire and was interred in the village of Chesters near his birthplace of Hawick, Scotland. He had two children.

There is a bronze statue in memory of Hizzy  in the grounds of Hawick Museum. at Wilton park and another at Onchan Head, Isle of Man, zas seen in order in the pics. The last pic is a cairn near Teviothead, the scene of the helicopter crash, it reads……

‘Hizzy’ This cairn was built by a few friends of Steve Hislop, British Superbike Champion, who was tragically killed in a helicopter accident near this site, on July 30th 2003.

Kind permission was granted by His Grace The Duke of Buccleuch.

[chucktaylorupset]

High Scholomance-ical

CAST: Orion! He’s a hunter, he’s a hero, We all cheer and never fear, o! This year’s death count's down to zero— Well, almost

(BEAT)

IBRAHIM: He got us close!

CAST: Orion! The defender of the weak, He patrols and never sleeps, And for him the monsters weep

Instead of us. They turn to dust!

They explode, they expire, Go up a smoking funeral pyre Lake, the School is not so dire When you defend. We can depend

At point of sword and shield He makes every monster yield And he does it all so well He knows oh so many spells

Turned to stone, turn to swill, Stuffed up swallowed in a pill Evil’s final fearful trill, Killed with talent, will, and skill

And he never stops to rest We all love him, he’s the best, He’s a godsend, he’s a dream, We all want him on our team--

MAGNUS: But New York’s his social scene. And so those powers? Oh, well, they’re ours.

You be jealous, be impressed, Be oh so very envious, Man, Orion Lake's the best

But one of us. So don’t you fuss.

Ours, and never dare forget, He's of our, and has us, set, Poachers forcibly made regret,

He’s ours to lend. And that will end.

At lethal senior graduation Orion Express leaves its station First class ticket, Summer vacation,

It has a price. So best make nice.

CAST (quieter, at first): Orion! Right now he does it for no fee, But nothing's free or guaranteed, And the odds are one in three.

So we work hard, Stay on our guard.

Want your parents? That’s too bad Think of home when you’re a grad Or have dad and mom real sad

Leave them to cry. The day you die.

When Graduation day descends, Gates flung wide and far open, All the monsters come to rend

And tear, and kill. Your odds are nill.

Alone smarts, wealth, and drive, For survival barely qualify To leave the Schoolomance alive

You need a team. To even dream.

When come senior year's dread end Grads need allies not mere friends Get out, first you need an in, Want through the door? Then you need more.

Alliance and life has steepest costs, You have less than, that's your loss, And Enclavers are the boss

Their hoarded stuff? Still not enough,

Until then it’s constant work, And Enclave kids will flirt and smirk Still no rich kid can afford to shirk,

You plan ahead. Or end up dead.

Whatever you can, you take One mistake makes funeral wake, If not for great Orion Lake,

He gives and gives. So we might live.

Center of our universe, Our one blessing in this curse,

EL: And I tell you, he’s the worst.

(CAST GASPS)

Saved me two times, never asked, Eleven more, and then I’ll gasp. Whole school’s worship in which he basks,

I’ve just this to say 

ORION: Get out the way! (ORION BREAKS DOWN THE DOOR TO KILL THE MALEFICARIA IN EL’S ROOM)

Er, Gal? Are you okay?

EL: Right, so sorry, if I may? Oh my prince, oh my martyr, Oh my knight-in-shining-armor Oh Orion, such a charmer So afraid I’d come to harm, for Me, El damsel in distress Oh this awful mounting mess Could do-in and make ruin Of my nonexistent dress Oh my hero, I confess! It’s not Gal, it’s El, it’s Galadriel, And not a single one “princess,” See your Gal-ing well it’s galling, Vomit in my mouth appalling, Now there’s door or well, the hole in

My wall that I really must now patch, So that when you leave it hits your ass, Arsed if I’m to smile, giggle, laugh, Cwtch you, kiss up, no thanks, I’ll pass.

ORION: El, you saw Luisa last.

[docnomore]

Odd thoughts and old topics rarely discussed. My youngest son, working on his masters degree in ancient languages - who is not the physical/manual laboring type, helped me yesterday. In gratitude I took him to breakfast this morning for the two of us to eat, plus tip, cost $60.

Sitting across from me, looking at him, he brought back memories from the early to mid 1980’s. More than slightly over weight, full head of hair - still off the collar, wire framed glasses and a beard and mustache. Literally looks like a few typical CIA bubbas with whom I worked including an old friend whose name I cannot mention.

Like me, my friend worked both the Far East and Southwest Asia (AKA: SWA pronounced “Swah”). He’d returned to the states and while crossing a one way street in DC, a car going the wrong direction hit and killed him. It was a rental car, later found abandoned and the driver had left the country - diplomatic immunity. My friend was given a quiet, unceremonious funeral in our home state with his obituary stating that he was a banker and died of a car accident. I miss him. He was good company.

My son reminded me of him along with the much older versions of the same with whom I’d worked in Mogadishu. Sitting there at breakfast took me back to when I was his age. My son literally slept through K-12 school. His senior year was spent teaching elementary math to high school students who never learned to add, subtract, multiply or divide. He also spent his senior year in the computer lab grinding out programs for teachers he didn’t even like.

After high school, he insisted that he hated the whole education process and wanted nothing to do with any of it. Again, he’s not the physical/menial labor type. He belongs in higher education. I gave him a job working for me. I also gave him every scut job that needed doing until he quit. He got a job working at the local grocery where the indigent shop (where I shop). His job there was aisle clean up and retrieving shopping carts from the parking lot. He very quickly decided this too was not his idea of a good time.

We talked him into giving us a year at the local community college. Told him to knock out the basic requisites for an associates degree and while he was at it to look for and take two classes per semester in odd ball subjects that might prove interesting to him. He agreed and in the process, fell in love with Latin and Ancient Greek. The last two weeks of his junior year at the university, he begged permission to turn in all late assignments even if it only got him half credit. The prof.s agreed, probably believing he would not deliver. Instead of three weeks, he did it in two. At his graduation, I was introduced to those professors all of whom spoke highly of him. They gave him full credit and told him that all he need do was apply for the masters and they would guarantee him a seat. He’s taking a year off.

My goal is two fold. First, to try an prevent “life” from taking over while he’s on hiatus. And second, to re enforce in him that some of us have business to attend to at the stratospheric levels of the education system. Some, maybe and still others, none what so ever. And that each of us has to both play the hand we’re dealt and to work to our strengths while developing our weaker sides. So yesterday, I put a shovel in his hand and put him to work in the 100+ degree heat. Reminding him of muscles he didn’t know he has and the sting of blisters. He needs to ready himself for school. I love him, even if he does remind me of bubbas with whom I kicked around in my former life.

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home ERICA SINCLAIR (keke palmer fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

basics 

[KEKE PALMER, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [ERICA SINCLAIR]? Old friends remember them as [DIRECT & CONFIDENT] but also [JUDGMENTAL & SARCASTIC], no wonder they’re still known as [ENTER LABEL] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [THIRTY-ONE] and some people say they remind them of [ROLLING EYES, A CUP OF COFFEE THAT’S ALWAYS FULL, WEARING SUITS AND HIGH HEELS TO WORK, STILL SAYING “JUST THE FACTS!” TO EVERYONE, YELLING AND INSULTING]. [it’s a-me, pep]

biography 

Please provide 3-5 bullet points describing your character and what they’ve been up to since 1986. Take all the creative discretion that you desire!

after the events in 1986, erica knew that she wanted to leave hawkins more than ever. even if she had only been eleven years old at the time, she had her mind set in leaving the small town she lived in. of course, she couldn’t leave – not only because she still had to go through the rest of her academic life (she still had plenty to go), but because of lucas. Anyone that has a sibling knows that all the insults and snarks made towards them don’t mean anything. While erica was known for her snarky comments towards everyone around her, she usually was worse with lucas – it was just easier with him in the next room. but after attending will and eleven’s double funeral, erica didn’t know what to say to her brother. she didn’t know what to say to anyone, if she was being honest – they had won, but at what cost? during that whole day, erica kept to herself, quiet as a mouse as she stared at those coffins, eyes wandering from them only to look at her brother. it wasn’t until dinner when lucas accidentally spilled his drink on her that she opened her mouth to call him a cowpuncher – at least she made him laugh.

fast forward to 1992, erica’s senior year – coincidently, her last year in hawkins as well. she had set her mind that she wanted to leave her mark there. She didn’t need much effort, of course, but she put her all in joining clubs, running for student council president and winning, becoming the captain of the debate team, all while getting the best grades and being top of her class. she was valedictorian, of course, and rumors said that she had to cut her speech in half because, apparently, she couldn’t “curse”. Whatever that meant. a few weeks before graduation, erica found out that she was going to yale. that was her ticket out of there and she wasn’t going to risk it. once summer was over, erica packed her bags and left for yale, without shedding a single tear. This was just the start of her life.

Erica found it a bit difficult to fit in at yale first. It was filled with presumptuous people that dressed like they were going to a funeral. But once she found her group, erica became known around campus – mostly because people always thought she was joking whenever she made a snarky comment towards someone. Balancing law school with parties, however, was the most difficult part. While erica was naturally gifted when it came to her academic life, law school seemed to take the best of her – the first semester took a toll on her. She even considered going back to hawkins, or to visit her brother (wherever he was at the time) for the next semester but… she pushed through, proving everyone wrong. While it had been difficult, law school had nothing against erica Sinclair. Now that she was used to it, she worked hard to be the top of her class – and she wouldn’t allow some nerd with glasses to take her spot. She graduated law school and moved to new York, knowing that it wouldn’t be hard to find a job there.

It didn’t take erica long to get into the political life in new York. If she was going to make her mark, she had to start somewhere. Being top of her class at yale had made it easy to slip through the cracks in the government of new York city. She started in the law department, and not even a week later, she had set out a plan for the next fifteen years of her life. she would slowly make her way to the top – she would leave her mark in the law department, slowly climbing through the very executive branches in the new York government. once she was experienced enough, she would run for new York city’s mayor and win, evidently. After that, she would run for governor and win. Once she turned thirty-five, she would run for president of the united states of erica… America! 

But it seemed like new York had different plans for her. She did manage to climb her way through the government, but once she decided to run for mayor, there was some backlash. It turned out that people didn’t like that she was mouthy and that she always seemed to have an answer for everything. One would think that new York was ready to have erica as mayor, but it turned out that they weren’t. after a big loss during the elections, erica decided to step down from her fifteen year plan. But she would be back – when people were ready for her. It didn’t take her long to find what seemed to be the right job for her – becoming a premier campaign manager hadn’t been part of the plan from the start, but it had turned out that it was what erica was meant to do. Bossing people around and telling them what to do, all while she campaigned for the candidates she believed in. she was almost like an invisible hand that manipulated what went on in new York city. The only problem was that erica didn’t like staying in the background – and this was only temporary until she was of age to run for president.

Erica had just been done screaming at one of her interns for bringing her the wrong coffee order when she noticed the letter on top of her desk. It was almost as it irradiated bad energy. Reading it, erica had to contain herself from throwing up – why hadn’t her mom told her about this? Why didn’t lucas? While she hadn’t necessarily been as close to joyce as everyone else was, it was a punch in the stomach that she was gone. And now, for the first time in years, erica Sinclair is back in hawkins for a funeral that she didn’t know she would attend this soon.

  As an aside, please let us know what your character left behind in the Hawkins High Time Capsule between 1983 (Season 1) - 1986 (Season 4). We’d simply love to know! Please do so even if your character was not canonically in Hawkins or attending Hawkins High during this timeframe.

Even at 10 years old, Erica knew that she wanted to become president one day. In 1985, Erica left a poster she had made of herself with the words “You can’t spell America without Erica” – her official slogan to run for presidency.

In 1986, after everything happened, Erica left her collection of My Little Pony. It was almost as a goodbye to her childhood.

stats 

Please distribute up to fifty points among the following stats! Click here for more detailed instructions on stats.

Athletics (How Athletic are they?) – 1

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?) - 1

Contacts (Do they know people with information?) - 3

Deceive (Are they a good liar?) - 2

Drive (like, actual driving ability) - 0

Empathy (How much of an empath are they?) – -1

Fight (Do they have hands?) - 1

Investigate (Can they sleuth?) - 2

Lore (Kinda like knowledge) - 3

Medicine (First aid essentially) - -1

Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?) - -1

Notice (Is your character observant?) - 2

Provoke (Are they a shit stirrer?) - 3

Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on command?) - 2

Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale) - 0

Stealth (Are they sneaky?) - 1

Will (Tenacity) - 3

extras 

n/a