#The hardest thing in the world is to live in it.

[hafwen]

The hardest thing in the world is to live in it.

If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank… Without passion, we’d be truly  d e a d .

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | epilogue

[chap seventeen] | [all chapters here]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

a/n: Well, we've finally made it, everyone, and I'm feeling emotional about it. This epilogue is just a lil something I thought up while I was considering what the future would hold for Eddie and ice princess, and I love it dearly.

wc: 3.2k

Epilogue

September 1985

I want to be somewhere big and interesting. New York, L.A.… fuck, even Florida for all I care, I just want out of Hawkins, out of this town.” “Then I guess we’ll be those high school sweethearts that run off to L.A. together after graduation, huh?” “Oh, I’m sure.”

September 1987

Eddie should’ve been home by now. You’d memorized his work schedule within his first week of starting at VIP Records, so you knew his shift always ended at 6pm on Tuesdays - so where the hell was he? It was nearly 8:30, and you’d been getting more and more antsy as the minutes ticked by, worrying over what could possibly be delaying him like this.

So much had happened in the two years since you and Eddie began dating back in Hawkins - your world had changed so much that sometimes you felt like a completely different person. It started with some big things, like reintroducing Eddie to your parents and begging them to start fresh with him - though your father resolved to never show any warmth to your boyfriend, at least your mother was kinder.

You decide that you wouldn’t be going to college following graduation, instead wanting to take a year to work, which was yet another thing your father didn’t warm to. Somewhere amidst that decision and the subsequent string of arguments that followed, you found yourself spending more nights with Eddie and Wayne than you did with your own parents, until one day you realized you had informally moved into the Munson home. So, by the end of summer ‘86, you were out of your parents’ house and working full-time to save up for whatever may come next (and to pay rent, despite Wayne’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary).

You weren’t sure who proposed the idea first, but you and Eddie had decided one day that you were going to move out to California. Initially, this was just some fantasy for the two of you, something to give you hope that you’d hightail it out of Hawkins one day, but over time that fantasy started to look more and more real until finally you agreed that maybe the idea wasn’t half bad at all.

So, you began to set aside more cash, began to look into neighborhoods and cities around Los Angeles, began to tell everyone that the two of you would be leaving town soon enough. No one really believed you at first - all your friends were in support of the idea, but they didn’t think it was particularly realistic. And when you mentioned it on one of the very rare occasions you saw your parents anymore, your father had the gall to laugh right in your face. That, of course, only bolstered your resolve to get the hell out of Indiana, and a lot of your freetime was slowly consumed with library visits to figure out how exactly to make this move happen.

You and Eddie finally made the leap a few months back, spending a couple weeks road tripping your way across the country, finally arriving in Los Angeles with only your most important earthly belongings and little else. Leaving Hawkins had been harder than you expected - leaving Wayne being the hardest - but you found California to be utterly refreshing, to fit you almost like a glove.

After living out of a hotel for a while, you found this cozy little apartment down in Long Beach, and you’d been content ever since; sure, it wasn’t perfect and the neighborhood wasn’t impressive, but it was your space, and that made it just right for you and Eddie. You both got jobs to hold you over for a while, you started visiting bars and venues, hell, you even found a stray cat that you quickly adopted without a second thought.

You’d been leaving the dollar theater after seeing a re-release of Labyrinth when the little calico found you - something about the film, and David Bowie, had totally mesmerized you when it came out the year prior, and Eddie was happy to take you to the special showing that night. So, when this cat approached you curiously and began weaving playfully between Eddie’s ankles, you were both immediately smitten. You named the cat Sir Didymus only to discover it was female a few weeks later, but it suited her rascally personality just fine, and thus her name stuck.

And now here you were, five months into your new California life and driving yourself crazy over where the hell Eddie was and why he was late to return home.

You called the record store and asked if maybe he was working late and forgot to mention it, but his coworker informed you that Eddie clocked out right on schedule; he mentioned that Eddie seemed eager to leave, but didn’t have any further information for you. On the one hand, it made you worry that something had happened, but on the other, you were annoyed that he had possibly made plans without telling you, as unlikely as that may be.

You’d tried to think of all the places in town that he could have gone to, but nothing seemed particularly viable - he wouldn’t have gone to a show without you, wouldn’t have gone to the store without you, wouldn’t have gone anywhere without you. Not unless he was keeping some kind of secret, but you couldn’t fathom what that might be.

Considering that today was your birthday, you had originally thought maybe he was making a special stop to get you flowers or a cake or a last minute gift; it was so like Eddie to do that, even after you insisted he didn’t need to get you anything at all. But once 7 o’clock hit, and then 7:30, and then 8pm, you began to doubt this original line of thought and assume the worst instead. 

Decidedly, a few minutes past 8, you’d thrown on one of Eddie’s sweaters and your shoes, and made the short trek down to the convenience store on the corner - the two of you were in there practically every day, so maybe one of the employees had seen him. The familiar night clerks greeted you, but when you asked about Eddie’s whereabouts, they didn’t have a clue, which made your worries grow even more. As if to put your mind at ease, they gave you a free 6-pack and said they’d call you if they saw him.

You returned back to the apartment to Sir Didymus crying for dinner, which made you realize you forgot to set out food for her earlier. Cursing to yourself, you filled her bowl and began to pace nervously, trying to consider where the hell Eddie could be. Did you forget about a show that he had previously mentioned? Or was he hit by a fucking truck? Maybe he got caught up chatting with a customer like he was one to do, or maybe he got fucking mugged. All possibilities were on the table, and you hated each and every one of them for causing you such worry and distress.

Prying open a window, you crawled onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, hands shaky with anxiety as you pressed it to your lips. The night was relatively quiet for your neighborhood, which wasn’t saying much - there were always cars cruising up and down the road, music blasting from a nearby bar, and people constantly arguing in alleyways and backyards. But the noise was soothing in its way, reminding you that the world was constantly in motion and that Eddie was probably just caught up in it all.

Sir Didymus came to sit beside you, meowing as if she, too, was wondering where the hell Eddie was and why he wasn’t back home. You considered throwing on some clothes to go searching for him, but aside from the bar and the convenience store, there was nowhere in the area that he would be; moments like these made you wish you two hadn’t sold your car, because it would’ve been really convenient to have right about now.

Each time you heard tires screeching or saw headlights shining down the road, you craned your neck to get a better look, but it was never Eddie. You’d already nervously polished off two cigarettes and were lighting up a third; Sir Didymus had retired to sleeping on the pile of blankets that she commandeered within a few days of moving in.

As you were caught up in your anxious thoughts, you thought you’d heard metal music from somewhere nearby, muffled and far off, but it caused your ears to perk; when you realized that it was specifically a Dio song playing, you immediately shot to your feet, clambering back through the window while dropping your cigarette into the ashtray.

Without bothering to slip on shoes, you rushed out onto the breezeway connecting all the little apartments in your complex, gripping the rails as you tried to find the source of the music, which was obviously louder from this side of the building. The street in front of your complex was crowded with cars, so if the music was Eddie’s, he must have had to park way down the block; eventually, the music stopped, and you became more anxious by the second.

When finally you spotted Eddie walking up the sidewalk towards the gate, you all but rushed down the stairs to meet him halfway; Eddie smiled largely, clearly not able to make out your concern under the flickering lights illuminating the path. A glare grew in your eyes as you realized he looked just fine; in fact, it seemed he stopped by the store, if the grocery bag in his hand was anything to go on. He held up his arms to greet you, but before he could get a word out, you hissed while jabbing him in the chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your eyes were alight with panicked concern, and you didn’t realize until that moment that you were on the verge of relieved tears. You swallowed, determined to hold them back, “It’s almost 9 o’clock, Eddie, I was worried out of my fucking mind.”

Eddie’s face fell, arms drooping at his sides; he didn’t expect you to have gotten so worked up over him not returning on time. He thought he could surprise you, that he could do something nice for your birthday, but the utter panic in your expression told him otherwise. He dipped his head down towards yours, hoping that he could sooth all the stress that had bubbled up inside you.

“I should’ve called--”

“No shit.”

Eddie clenched his jaw a little, taking a breath - he wasn’t about to get upset with you, he wouldn’t let himself, “Let’s go upstairs, okay?”

The impulsive side of you wanted to argue with him right here and now, wanted to grill him about why he didn’t come home and what he was doing. The more patient part of you, however, held back, shaky breaths heaving in your chest as you nodded with a twisted expression. You spun around on your heels and marched up the stairs, crossing your arms with a scowl; Sir Didymus sat just outside your open door, curiously waiting for you both.

Following just a step behind you, Eddie sighed to himself as he took in your rigid posture, realizing that he should’ve thought this through - after all, since your move to Long Beach, the two of you were essentially attached at the hip, doing absolutely any and everything together. Of course you would worry when he didn’t come home, when he didn’t call or give you a heads up - but, again, he’d just been hoping to surprise you, and hadn’t considered that a few hours would get you as stressed as you were now.

Back in the apartment, you took large strides towards the open window and retrieved your cigarette from the ashtray. To calm yourself down, you began to pace, watching as Eddie closed the door behind him and waited there a moment as if to collect his thoughts; when he turned to face you, you quickly looked away and took a deep drag.

“God, Eddie, I’m trying not to be mad, okay, I was just so worried and I thought maybe there was something you were keeping from me or that maybe you were in an accident or even dead in a fucking ditch, and I know it’s ridiculous to get so worked up over only a few hours but--”

“You can be mad.” He interrupted the inevitable rambling that was about to commence.

You had always struggled to express emotions considering the household you grew up in, so these past two years with Eddie had been a learning experience for you, which led to your feelings often spilling over when they became overwhelming. You shot him a confused look, still struggling to this day with the idea that it was okay to feel something; you bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t keep babbling, trying to collect your thoughts.

“I should’ve told you where I was,” Eddie started, walking the short distance from the front door to the kitchen, gently dropping the grocery bag atop the counter, “but I wanted to surprise you.”

You laughed smally, feeling stupid for getting so worried over seemingly nothing. Shaking your head, you took a deep drag from the cigarette and turned to face the window, eyes unfocused as you looked around. You dropped your head, beginning to feel more and more stupid the more that you thought about it; you could hear Eddie coming up slowly behind you.

“Get out of your head,” He instructed gently, to which you laughed again, “You’re probably already kicking yourself, am I right? As if you did something wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at his reflection in the window - fuck, he knew you too well. Slowly, you turned to face him again, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Eddie took another couple steps closer, waiting for you to eventually look up at him.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He said simply, and the pet name nearly caused you to smile fondly; even after all this time, it stuck, and you figured it wasn’t going anywhere. You could tell in his voice that Eddie saw you resisting to grin, “I should’ve called, I just got caught up in the surprise.”

The corner of your mouth pulled up, and you looked at Eddie carefully through your lashes; his smile was gentle and sweet, eyes far more adoring than you thought you really deserved. Swallowing your trepidation, you asked smally, “What surprise?”

Eddie’s smile grew larger as he cocked his head, “Your dual birthday-anniversary surprise.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, relief slowly relaxing your shoulders as you took a final small inhale of the cigarette before tossing it out the window, “My birthday is not our real anniversary and you know it.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of meeting each other at that picnic table behind the football field, at the crazy fake dating scheme you had that ultimately led you to where you were now. It felt like a lifetime again that senior year happened, and yet it still felt as if it was only yesterday.

“So maybe we have two anniversaries.” Eddie teased fondly, his eyes taking you in as if you were still a breath of fresh air to him. Under those soft, adoring eyes, you could feel your ears growing hot even still.

You sighed affectionately with a shake of your head, crossing your arms as a gust of wind came up through the window; being near the beach, the air was always unexpectedly cold at night. As you took in the always pleasant sight of Eddie, you realized he had a bandage just above his collarbone, which caused your brow to furrow with concern as you looked between it and his face.

“What happened?” You asked, closing the gap between you two so you could worry over whatever the hell was on his neck; you wondered if maybe he nicked himself shaving, but the bandage seemed far too large for that. Did he hurt himself at work?

As you reached for the bandage, Eddie laughed, capturing your wrists in his hands before you could touch his neck. You met his eyes with confusion, to which he simply shook his head.

“That’s the surprise.”

Your expression deadpanned, “You getting hurt is the surprise? Geez, babe, how romantic.”

Eddie laughed again, fondly rolling his eyes, “Not hurt in the way that you think.”

Clearly enjoying your confusion, Eddie released your grip and reached for the bandage, hissing a little as he tried to gently peel it off. Your jaw dropped in both surprise and confusion at the injury beneath it, not prepared for what it would be.

It was a tattoo, though that wasn’t the surprising part, considering that Eddie was slowly becoming covered in them. No, what took you aback was that the tattoo was quite clearly your lips, done in a shade almost identical to the lipstick color you’d been trying just the day before. You stared dumbly at it, as if you couldn’t quite compute it, as if you didn’t quite think it was real.

When you finally managed to draw your gaze back up to Eddie’s face, he was smiling from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling with clear delight at your stunned expression. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times as you tried to find your voice again, eyes rapidly looking back and forth from the tattoo to his face and back again.

“You… got a tattoo for me?” Your tone was one of disbelief; saying it out loud made the moment more real, and suddenly your throat felt tight as if you could cry.

Eddie nodded with pride, “You like it?”

You stared at the replica of your lips, recalling the evening prior when you’d been testing out make-up samples that you’d gotten from work. Eddie always enjoyed watching you apply make-up, and of course lipstick was his favorite part; when he commented on a shade that he seemed particularly fond of, you leaned over and planted a loud, silly kiss at the base of his neck.

Considering that you crawled out of bed hours before him to get to your shift at the make-up counter, you didn’t see whether or not he’d ever cleaned the lipstick off; evidently, he must have worn it like a badge of pride all day until he could finally get down to the tattoo parlor and make it permanent.

Shaking yourself from your reverie, you looked at Eddie lovingly, your eyes a little more wet; god, you’d gotten so much more emotional since he entered your life, it was nearly ridiculous. Or maybe you’d just become more vulnerable, far less skilled at holding back when it was just the two of you alone.

You cupped his cheeks gently, being extra careful not to go near the fresh tattoo, “God, I love you.”

The smile he gave you was dazzling, mesmerizing even, “I love you, princess.”

You drew his lips down to yours, resting your forehead gently to his; Eddie hummed contently, whispering a tender “happy birthday” against your lips before kissing you fiercely.

.

.

addt. a/n: I'll try to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and watched it grow, to those that have been commenting and messaging with each update, and to all the incredibly fic writers I've met through this story! And, of course, a HUGE THANK YOU to my dear @eddiernunson for being so invested - you've helped me developed so many ideas, and it's truly warmed my heart to see someone else love the ice princess as much as I do <3 If anyone would like to be tagged in any future outings these two may have in store, please let me know!

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @feralgoblinbabe @frogtape @fromasgardandback

@fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets

@no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @ollieolive @rach5ive @sapphire4082

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

@teethvenom @tvserie-s-world @twihard28 @urlivingdeadgirl @v1per1ne

@wefracturedmotivation @welcometohellsock @whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[mochipatch]

Something to Prove and Nothing to Lose

Ricky: YES YES YES! This is a masterclass, Carlos, good job!

Carlos: Yes! Yes! Thank you! Ahh, this feels so good! Forza Ferrari!

It was the perfect weekend. It is the ideal weekend.

He had been feeling it since the end of the month-long break. This uphill climb in 2024 is the hardest thing he has fought in his racing career, losing a seat to a seven-time world champion, scrambling on his feet to get back up and find a team that will welcome him with open arms (a top team is a bonus), where he could find a new home. With the second break coming to an end. He started to feel it. He can feel it thrumming in his veins. 

He felt it at COTA. He had it on hand. First, on FP1, Sprint Qualifying could have gone better, but he gritted his teeth, taking in on every opportunity. Ultimately, it was P2, which was good but not good enough. Qualifying felt good until a red flag aborted his run, which could have been pole. He had a good start, but the squabble between Max and Lando caught him in a bind, which was not the same with Charles, who got away smoothly and led laps to victory while he ended in P2. He always said he wanted another win before leaving Ferrari in his interviews. Time is running out with six races left, and he is P2. Frustrated, he could have done better but was a victim of circumstance. The racing gods whispering in his head - No, not yet. 

The celebration of the team in their motorhome felt like the start of a goodbye. Maybe this is what it all could be - a podium but never a win. So he tried to soak it all up, disappointment emanating from every pore in his body but trying to be happy because he would not be a person to rob off a good celebration for a team, the team that he has bled red for ever since his childhood dream team opened its door to him, much less a teammate that he considers a good friend and a good motivator to be better. 

We will go and start again is his mantra. 

Mexico is always a lively affair with all the pomp and circumstance. He never finished on the podium in this circuit, but the free practices felt promising, placing him in the top 3 every time. Qualifying was nerve-wracking in Q1 and Q3, but something clicked in Q3, and he got two lap times that ensured him pole position on both occasions. He savors the high, the adrenaline rushing through him. He is giggly and all joyous, as if he is already on the podium. Everything felt right. A thought ran through his head - Is this my time? Asking the voice in his head, which denied him COTA. No one answered.

It’s lights out, and away we go.

He is off to a good start, but Max is even better. He tried his darndest to defend, but Max got the upper hand; he had nothing to lose now, but crashing was not an option, so he chose to run to the grass and give back the position. Is this your answer to my question? He asks again. A safety car allowed him to be closer to Max, but it was only until lap 9 that he decided to take charge. Damned be the racing gods, he will take charge. He overtakes Max, but Max isn’t going down without a fight. But by the skin of his teeth, he takes the lead and defends the overtake. He manages his tires, looking for every variable that could go wrong. He won’t be comfortable until he crosses the checkered flag. He has hunted, and the 19 drivers behind him will hunt him down to take his place if a sliver of opportunity arises. As lap 71 nears, he grows more and more confident. He knows Lando is catching up with the gap closing into 4 seconds, but he knows that the laps will not be enough to catch him. It's the last lap; he aims to go to their side once he sees the pit wall. He spots a pit board and the people in red climbing the fence, raising their fists and yelling, never mind that the roar of the engines drowns out their voices. He crosses the checkered flag, and his mind blanks for a second. He did it. He did it. 

HE FUCKING DID IT. 

He hears Ricky's radio, and he answers on autopilot. Thanking Ferrari, thanking the team that let him bleed red even if it left him feeling nothing, for letting him walk through the doors of history, of legacy. He parks his car in front of the P1 sign board, and it takes him a second to process what happened. He gets out of the car, and there is something in the crowd's layout that feels like this win was just made for him. The mechanics pull him into a hug, and he hugs them just as fiercely, hoping his hold conveys his gratitude to them. 

It was tradition for the winner to wear a sombrero while being lifted off the platform; he just wanted something simple for all the fanfare he had gone through this weekend. He opts out of the sombrero and just holds his helmet because it all boils down to this: he and his car. He raises his helmet to the crowd, pointing at his number, and takes in the crowd once more. Once the Spanish National Anthem plays out, everything comes to a head: the euphoria of the win in front of the Mexican crowd and his family on the audience, the tiredness from the season that has brought him, and the bittersweet feeling of what would have been. Before he knows it, he feels a prickle in his eyes and cheeks. 

Oh. 

He is crying. 

The Italian anthem plays next when he hears a voice in his head. You did it. Your time has finally come once more. 

He took charge and the racing gods granted his wish; he waited, and he finally had it. 

[cometblaster2070]

i'm too sleepy to properly make sense of this but i need someone to draw this asap pls and thank you.

basically 'ivan the terrible and his son ivan' as sasharcy angst but make it worse in the sense that sasha has actually killed marcy.

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[madamescarlette]

.

[tattoos4mnd]

[infizero]

like idk about yall. but THAT was catharsis. that was closure. im terribly terribly sad but in a fulfilled way

[mejomonster]

On a serious note, I do feel mysterious case lotusbook has a lot of sincere themes about getting older, realities of responsibility and dreams realized, how it's difficult to succeed and not always the direct path one expects, how there's value in little aspects of life. Almost every li lianhua scene seems to be about that to some degree. The murder cases aren't particularly deep as far as super complicated to figure out or Able to be predicted super well (since they don't always give all the details in the initial setup), but the themes about who was killed and why do connect to li lianhuas situation.

[basofy]

i feel a little bad remembering how in my mother days there was this rly common perception of thinking 'well lucas would be so pessimistic after what happened and he would hate flint cuz he sucks and he would hate everything!!' and i would believe it just cuz i was still relearning a lot of things i didnt know if that was what i was supposed to think but it always felt like people who saw things this way wanted to force others to do too

[brittlebutch]

finally found a place to read With the Light online and i'm thrilled; if you haven't read this manga i do Legitimately recommend it

[bb0nline]

I know I haven't posted here in forver but mp100 moots PLEASE tell me you know who wrote the fanfic "Sadness Accident" and if it still exist I can't find it anywhere and it is literally my fav fic of all time I'm going crazy😭😭😭😭.

[torntruth]

❛ who do we have here? ❜ - for buffy

— SOME PROMPT FROM HERE , always accepting , @ofspvrta [ an ancient immortal vs. california ] .

IT'S THE INSTANT WAY BUFFY'S HEAD TURNS. not quite fast though , the slow turn until green eyes are boring into kassandra's make it more efficient. nose wrinkled into an irritated scowl , lips a thin line. buffy stands up from the unconscious knight she's hovering over. the punch she just landed across his face is already bruising up ... and he's certainly not moving. THE CAMPER IS SITTING ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. she's still glaring at kassandra.

... because she's more concerned at how fast the tall woman had found them. if she truly wanted to hurt any of them , she would have attempted. KASSANDRA'S THE LEAST THREATENING OUT OF THE TWO PARTIES HUNTING THEM. and she's really only threatening because of the fight that broke out of confusion more than anything. buffy just doesn't have time to figure out what kassandra needs exactly because she's too busy with an army of knights from an ancient organization and a whole ass GOD . oh she's so tired.

there is nothing that buffy would love more than to be arguing with dawn over something trivial while eating a homemade sandwich in the comfort of their house. NOTHING MORE. buffy opens her mouth to say something , probably out of anger and a little condescending because she is defeated and annoyed ... but the obvious sound of hooves on desert starts echoing. if they keep standing here that army's just going to keep coming. the one knight that she had already incapacitated was using one of the swords. HER SPECIALTY , she thinks as if a lot of weapons that aren't firearms are her specialty. she jumps sideways , rolls , picks up the sword at the same time and then heaves it like it's a spear towards the charging knight. the sword runs through the knight. and there is no longer a discussion whether these knights are human , or if they could be considered otherwise because they're from another realm. THEY'RE ALL DYING ANYWAY. does the no killing humans rule count if it's in pure self defense? yes.

" knights of byzantium and there's a whole army , " buffy just breathes out , actually. she's already backing up towards the camper. finger pointed ... menacingly towards kass.

" if you would like to have a discussion , you can join me. but if you lay a hand on any of them , even the vampire , i will kill you. do you understand? "

[lith-myathar]

.

[trashpandacraft]

With regards to modern coal tar dye: is the production of it safe for the factory workers? What about the environment, in terms of waste water and petroleum processing, etc? Just curious.

i think this is a really good question, and one that deserves an answer. it's also not a question that i can answer comprehensively.

i want to be up front here that—again—i'm not a chemist or a scientist. i'm just a guy on the internet who is super interested in food processing, food history, and dye. in real life, i'm mostly an editor and sometimes a writer and researcher. because of my specific life, i'm arguably more comfortable reading government regulations and material safety data sheets than most people are, but i have no expertise here. if someone does have that expertise and feel that i'm misrepresenting things in this post, they should please 100% correct me.

but so: is the production of modern coal tar dye safe the factory workers? the first and biggest problem with this question is that these dyes are made in a lot of factories. there are a ton of chemical manufacturers out there, and many of them make food dyes. for the dyes to by approved, they have to be batch tested to meet quality parameters, so we can be pretty sure that the end products are all approximately the same. does that mean that the working conditions in the factory are good? no, it doesn't. i assume that working conditions vary as much from one chemical manufacturer to another as they do between other factories. as far as i'm aware, there's no way for an end consumer to tell what factory made the dye they're eating or putting in their hair or whatever.

i'm guessing that's not what you meant by safety, though, and you're asking more about the petroleum-specific aspects. and again, honestly, i don't know this about dye specifically. however, we as a global society are incredibly dependent on petroleum products—and there are a lot of them. (more on that in a sec.) but petroleum is used in so, so many things. it's used in asphalt and aspirin, dish soap and deodorant, mascara and mineral oil, plastic and paint, toothpaste and tires. it's what we make plastic from. it's genuinely almost impossible to overstate how many things in our lives are created with petroleum products. but we don't think of most of those things as threatening or toxic, and we often don't really worry that the materials themselves are going to be hazardous to the workers who are making them.

i don't know enough about the specific bits of petroleum used to say which, if any, of these products are more or less hazardous to the people making them. hopefully none of them are; probably some of them are. given how incredibly broad the overarching category of 'made at least in part from petroleum' is, though, i'm going to guess that dyes, specifically, are at least not hugely better or worse than the other things on that list.

part of why i'm comfortable saying that is because most of these dyes have actually been around for quite a long time! by the 1930s, six of the seven coal-tar dyes currently in use in the united states were already being made and regulated by the fda. (source) so we've had at least a hundred years of these specific dyes, which is generally plenty of time to realise if they're going to give everyone who works with them cancer. a hundred years of non-controversial production and usage is, in my opinion, a pretty decent safety assessment.

but let's back up some more. we know that they're ok for the end consumers, and we know that they're probably ok for the people who are making products with them. but 'petroleum' is kind of a weird word that encompasses a lot of things, ranging from crude oil fresh out of the ground all the way on down to some of the products that are made with it. mineral oil is petroleum. gasoline is petroleum. but they don't come out of the ground like that.

here's another place where my knowledge falls apart a little. my understanding is that crude oil is split into different parts through a process called fractional distillation. the oil is heated until it vapourises, and then components of the vapour condense at different temperatures and are split out like that. i have to reiterate: this is my very baby-level understanding of it. i've fact-checked myself and it seems that at an incredibly basic level, this is correct, but feel free to google 'fractional distillation' or 'fractionation' to read about it yourself.

i have no idea how bad this process actually is for the environment, and there are—obviously—strong incentives for corporations to conceal this. there's also a human urge to blame things on 'that new plant'. i used to live by a cracker plant, which both fractionates and processes the ethane created by the fractionation process. i had neighbours who worked there and seemed happy enough about it. i also had neighbours who swore up and down that it's the sole cause of pollution in that area, that the smells and air quality are terrible. (worth noting that because of the nature of this kind of plant, i can't differentiate between 'pollution etc that is directly related to fractionation' and 'pollution etc that is from the cracking process', though my understanding of the matter is that the latter is a bigger problem than the former.)

having lived there, i know full well that the plant wasn't the sole reason for the bad smells and air quality—there were other, different plants that definitely helped. did the cracker plant make it worse? in my opinion, yeah, it did. but did it have to make things worse? was it worse in part because of lax regulations and regulatory enforcement? was it worse in part because the company was given waivers and legally permitted to release pollution over the normal legal limit? (this part i know—it was.)

could regulations negate any pollution from the plant? i have no idea; i honestly don't know enough about the process to say. could stronger regulations (and stronger enforcement of the regulations, and not giving companies regulatory waivers because they ask nice) make that plant pollute a lot less? it could. is there the political will to do that? certainly not where i was living, but possibly in other places.

so the plants aren't great, but they could be made better, at least. i'm not aware of any unique health and safety concerns for workers at those plants, assuming that things are up to code and they're wearing appropriate ppe, but my source here is a couple guys i know who worked at one. would someone who's studied chemicals say differently? i don't know.

that's a little ambiguous! how safe is it for the workers? safe enough that the factories exist and are able to be in compliance with the health and safety requirements of many countries. could they be safer? probably. are they meaningfully less safe than working in factories that create other types of chemical? i don't have enough data to say for sure, and i don't really know how to get it, either.

ok we're almost done, but let's back up one more step. coal-tar dyes were originally made from coal, and are now mostly made from petroleum. but coal and petroleum have to be extracted, so what about the people who are extracting them?

and here we're into a whole different kind of difficult topic. how safe is mining? how safe is working on an oil rig? not very. they're both industries that are notorious for being ruthlessly profit-focused, no matter what the human cost of that is. they both have high mortality rates, and depending on what list you're looking at, they're consistently considered very dangerous.

but a lot of people take those jobs anyway, either because they're the best option on offer or because they hope the payoff will be worth it. i have an uncle who's worked his whole life in the mines and has the physical damage to show for it. his son turned eighteen and went over to the same mine to see if he could get a job. (he did, eventually.) i don't especially like this uncle or this cousin, but they're not stupid men. they looked at their options and figured this was the best one. i've known people who worked on offshore oil rigs, people who chose that job on purpose, who felt that it was worth the tradeoffs and risk. and maybe for them it was! i wish no one was making the choice of 'is the increased risk of death worth the increased rate of pay', but i wish a lot of things.

how safe is resource extraction for people who don't work in it directly? again, i think that most of us will agree that it's not very safe. fracking isn't good! our horrifying single-minded reliance on extracted resources is slowly killing us all! i don't think anyone's ever shouted for joy because the local mining company bought all that forest outside of town and they're gonna raze it. no one's thought that it would just be really cool to have an oil well in the back pasture just for the aesthetic value.

on the other hand, what's the alternative right now? i don't mean in an ideal future where we've done sensible things like converted everything to renewable fuel sources—what's the alternative right now? short of some sort of global cataclysm, i don't think there is a viable alternative right now. i think that a lot of very smart people are working very hard to create alternatives; i think that a lot of very wealthy oil executives are working very hard to make sure that those alternatives will fail before most of us ever hear so much as a whisper about them.

so ultimately, are coal-tar dyes safe? yes and no! yes in the sense that consuming them isn't going to hurt you. yes in the sense that i can't find any particular reason to think that they're riskier to make than any other product being made. yes in the sense that their production is in compliance with governmental health and safety regulations. and also no in the sense that resource extraction is inherently damaging to the land, water, and people of the world. no in the sense that it's not environmentally sustainable.

this is a really long answer to say, essentially, 'it's complicated'. but also: it's complicated. the closer to the consumer end of the chain you get, the safer things generally become. farming is more dangerous than cooking is more dangerous than eating; using hair dye is less dangerous than making hair dye is less dangerous than extracting the resources from which the hair dye will be made.

i don't know if this answers your question. it's a hard thing to wrestle with, for me. how safe does something have to be for it to be safe enough? where's the cutoff? is there anything where enough is known about the entire supply chain that we can accurately say that nothing and no one is harmed by its production?

honestly, probably not, at least right now, and i don't really think that it's mentally healthy for us as individuals to dwell on that for too long. the world is imperfect, and we make the best choices we can with the information we can get. in the specific instance of coal-tar dyes, i think we can probably say that they're not causing an unusual amount of harm, or more harm than most products do, and that's probably about as good as it'll get.

[rewh0re]

honestly why do men

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