#a county affair spoilers

[drawinganchors]

“Order and chaos are not opposites. They are names of deities that we invoke to place ourselves in a position in our little universe that we are seeking to understand.”

- Brennan Lee Mulligan justifying why he had a chicken pull a rocket launcher out of her cloaca in A County Affair

[acourtoffeyandfables]

I love that the gang is playing fast and loose with “what do animals understand about Human Things” in A County Affair.

Marketing materials? We know exactly what this is and how it’s used to the point that we’re going to add our own message to these flyers.

But what are hands?

[mephestopheles]

I, for one, am super happy that the time honoured tradition of experienced GM's hazing the new GM by trying to get away with as much chaotic shit as possible is, not only alive and well, but thriving.

[mandrellaeffect]

chicken shooting a rocket launcher out of her ass like the baddest bitch to get her revenge

[operationslipperypuppet]

ruthie the chicken?? is that you??

[chungledown-bimothy]

Any other wbn girlies thinking about Phillip, Itsa, and Ruthie all rolling to learn how to read?

[betemperate]

Starting a TTRPG club for kids in my community, but I’ve been at a loss which type to use. After hearing the sneak peak for A County Affair and researching Roll For Shoes, I knew it was exactly what I was looking for! Thank you so much, Erika! Beyond stoked!

[brainrockets]

Writing? You mean reverse reading? 😏

[dabidagoose]

Oh this promo for a county affair is INCREDIBLE. It's a heist. An animal heist. Holy shit.

[two-bit-socrates]

O.O This poor horse ;_;

(1:20:25 in)

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lockdown

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reporter!reader

Summary: While covering a court hearing, you get taken hostage with your favorite S.W.A.T. sergeant.

Warnings: spoilers for S.W.A.T. 4x16 "Lockdown"; angst, fluff!!, reader is flirty

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

A/N: This is one of my top 5 favorite episodes and I'm actually planning another rewrite with one of the others! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! (And thank you for telling me how good this episode is, you were 100% right about how good Deacon looked @katamcauley!)

S.W.A.T. Masterlists | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“Here’s your next assignment,” your editor says, laying a paper on your desk. “Civilian is suing the LAPD for damages, and the case is going to court tomorrow.”

“North L.A. County Courthouse?” you ask.

“Yes.” She sighs before adding, “And I already checked. Your favorite distraction isn’t set to testify tomorrow.”

“Boo. Can I have a different assignment?”

You bat your eyelashes as you ask, but she laughs and walks away without answering. Shaking your head, you begin reviewing the facts of the case. Covering court hearings is neither the best nor worst part of your job, but at least you get a break from the office for an hour or two.

✯✯✯✯✯

“So legal affairs confirmed that the defense attorney only needs us as rebuttal witnesses. Should be out of here in no time,” Deacon tells Hondo as they sign in after surrendering their weapons at the courthouse entrance.

“Yeah, okay, Deac,” Hondo answers sarcastically. “When was the last time you got out of court in no time?”

“Today would be the first.”

“Exactly. And it becomes less likely if your friend is working today.”

Deacon rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it.

“You know, I got to be honest, man, a civilian gets injured in a raid, and the officer who broke down the door admits he was at fault? I’m just not sure how I feel about being called in to testify on behalf of the city,” Hondo states as he walks through the metal detector.

“It’s not anything we haven’t done dozens of times before,” Deacon argues.

“S.W.A.T. was just there for support.”

As Deacon and Hondo near the courtroom door, someone calls, “Sergeants… Tony Jacobs, assistant city attorney. Thanks for coming in early. I know it’s a pain.”

“Eh, it’s not a problem,” Hondo replies, shaking Tony’s hand. “Beats dealing with the morning rush. Hey, listen, you seem to have a good amount of testimony for this case already. Why do you need us?”

“Cut right to the chase, huh? Well, frankly, what this woman is asking for in damages is excessive. Testimony from two S.W.A.T. sergeants could go a long way in the court. Just follow my lead on the stand. We’ll be out of here in a jiff. Our courtroom’s on the third floor.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After finding the courtroom, you sit and sigh in relief. You somehow managed to pick your most uncomfortable pair of shoes today, so you’re glad to sit in the courtroom for a while. Leaning over your notebook and taking a few quick notes, you don’t hear the door open.

Deacon and Hondo enter the courtroom, and Hondo sees you first.

“And he’s gone,” he hums as Deacon notices you.

Someone says your name and the underlying teasing tone alerts you to Sergeant David ‘Deacon’ Kay’s presence behind you. Smiling, you turn to greet him.

“Hello, Sarge,” you say, looking up at him. “You clean up nice.”

Deacon shakes his head before muttering, “So do you.”

“Are you testifying?”

Deacon glances toward the door, where Hondo is talking to the assistant city attorney. “That’s… to be determined.”

“Well, I hope you are because then I don’t have to take very good notes.”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” you whisper, leaning toward him, “it’s a conflict of interest.”

“You’re a journalist,” Deacon says, “I don’t think that applies to you.”

“My editor will beg to differ. If you’re testifying I may spend too long describing your big, brown, puppy dog eyes or how great you look in your suit.”

“Okay,” Deacon interjects, chuckling as he raises his hands. “Easy, Casanova.”

“I can’t help it Sergeant Kay,” you reply, fanning yourself for effect.

Hondo calls him over, and Deacon taps your arm as he says, “See you.”

“Promise?”

He chuckles again as he nods, turning away from you. Looking down, you wish you had chosen a different pair of shoes.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was having second thoughts about testifying,” Hondo states. 

“What’s the problem?” Jacobs asks.

“Feels like you’re using S.W.A.T.’s reputation to score points that you can’t get any other way.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, Sergeant.”

“I’m not sure I’m down to be used like that.”

“You’re kidding. You spring this on me right now? You’re a public servant, same as me. We both have obligations to the city.”

“No, we have obligations to the citizens, not the city.”

Jacobs steps away as Deacon approaches.

“You serious about this?” Deacon asks.

“I’m serious, Deacon. I’m just about done with ‘business as usual’ these days.”

Hondo turns to look into the courtroom, but Deacon’s gaze strays to you. You’re the “friend” Hondo referred to, and you and your editor know how you feel about him. If only you could find a way to tell each other.

✯✯✯✯✯

The bailiff walks out of the courtroom, and you turn to watch him exit, your eyes catching Deacon’s as he looks over, too. Deacon and Hondo stand quickly.

“Those are gunshots,” Hondo announces. “Sounds like downstairs.”

Judge Vang presses the alarm on her desk before announcing, “Everyone, stay where you are. This is an active shooter alarm.”

The door closes, and Deacon rushes to it, trying to open it before saying, “It’s locked, won’t budge.”

“Deac,” you call. “The panel on the wall controls the automatic door locks.”

“Your Honor, open that door right now,” Hondo demands.

You walk to Deacon’s side, murmuring, “She can’t do anything to override the lock after pressing the alarm.”

“We have a protocol, Sergeant,” Judge Vang replies. “This is my courtroom. I’m responsible for the lives in it.”

“And we’re responsible for the ones out there!” Hondo says.

Deacon taps your arm, nodding at you before returning his attention to the panel.

Hondo calls Luca, explaining, “Deac and I are locked down in a courtroom on the third floor. Active shooter protocol. The security system’s turned this place in a panic room, and we are stuck without firearms. What’d you find out about the shooters?”

Hondo walks to your side as Deacon pops the control panel open.

“Deac, we got four armed inmates downstairs. Sounds like a barricade situation. Luca, they make any demands?”

“There hasn’t been contact yet,” Luca answers.

Tan reads off their IDs, and you unconsciously lean closer to Deacon.

“We’re flying blind here, Luca,” Hondo says. “Listen, you’re senior man on-site. You are in charge now. The team is in your hands.”

Hondo ends the call, and Deacon continues working on the panel, glancing over at you when you take a deep breath.

The panel beeps as something clicks, and Deacon asks Hondo to try the door.

“You got it, Deac, it’s open,” Hondo whispers.

“Don’t go out there unarmed,” Judge Vange implores.

“We are not doing anybody any good locked in here.”

“I know you’re S.W.A.T. but there’s safety protocols for a reason. It’s best if we all stay put,” Jacobs adds.

“Listen,” Deacon says, stepping away from you. “The two of us are gonna go get the lay of the land. We’ll be back.”

“We will be back,” Hondo promises.

You grab Deacon’s bicep before he can open the door. “Do not get hurt out there,” you demand quietly.

Deacon raises his hand to cover yours where it rests on his arm. “I promise to come back for you. Nothing will happen to me because I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll knock three times, okay?”

You nod, releasing him and waiting by the door, kicking your shoes off as you impatiently away his return.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sounds like they’re headed our way, taking hostages,” Hondo says as he and Deacon enter the stairwell.

“They’re desperate,” Deacon adds. “That means they’re dangerous.”

“No one’s safe, we’ve gotta evacuate.”

They enter a hallway as Deacon says, “There’s got to be a fire escape or some way out of here.”

“Deac, check the windows… A building covered in windows and none of them open.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You pace before the door, ignoring the whispers of the other people in the courtroom. Deacon is taking too long, and when he gets back, maybe you should tell him that your flirting isn’t an act, that you really mean it.

✯✯✯✯✯

After the third knock ends, you slowly push the door open, releasing a relieved sigh when Deacon steps inside. He pulls you into a quick hug before announcing, “We’ve got an exit plan. We found a set of windows on the other side of the floor.”

“No way,” Jacobs argues. “We’ll be sitting ducks out there. We’re better off here.”

“Listen to me, all of you,” Hondo calls. “The gunmen are breaking into rooms and taking hostages. They’re gonna be up here very soon. We cannot stay. You’ve got to trust us.”

“No way, I’m not going,” Jacobs replies.

“You’re making a mistake. Come on, let’s go,” Deacon says, ushering people toward the door.

As Deacon leads, you look him over, glad to see he looks exactly the same as when he left. It took getting trapped in a courtroom with him to admit that your obnoxious flirtations are a disguise for how much he truly affects you and how much you care for and adore him.

“I got ya,” Deacon promises as his hand slips into yours, leading you through the empty hallways.

He directs you to the window, bringing up the end of the line. When it’s your turn to jump onto the rescue pad, you stop and push back against Deacon, where his hand rests on your back.

“You aren’t jumping,” you accuse.

“Not yet,” he answers. “We need to help the other hostages.”

“Then I’m not leaving either.”

Deacon looks at Hondo, who only shrugs. He’s not getting in the middle of whatever you and Deacon have going on.

“I know this courthouse better than either of you,” you point out. “I can help.”

“You can stay on one condition,” Deacon answers severely. “Do exactly what I say when I say. If I tell you to run or hide or come back here and jump, you do it.”

You nod, taking Deacon’s hand as you whisper, “I promise.”

“Let’s go then,” Hondo says, pointing back to the window.

“Where are your shoes?” Deacon asks quietly as his hand moves to your lower back.

“I left them in the courtroom,” you answer as if it’s obvious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Running down the stairs behind Deacon, you press your hand to his back as Hondo signals for you to stop. Someone is shooting below you, and you’re glad to be with Deacon.

“We got to go back,” Hondo says.

“Tan’s texting,” Deacon alerts, walking further into an empty room to call him. “We heard gunshots. They firing at you guys?” he asks.

“No, not at us, just the rescue bag,” Luca answers.

Deacon looks over at you, knowing that his only choice now is to keep you close and safe.

“They’re rounding people up in here,” Hondo states. “It looks like all four of these guys are armed now.”

As Deacon and Hondo listen to the deputy explain where the key to the weapon locker is, you trace your eyes over Deacon’s face, letting his very presence keep you calm.

“That’s two floors down,” Hondo muses.

“Won’t be easy with them patrolling,” Deacon agrees.

“We just need time to get our guns, Luca.”

Deacon ends the call, wrapping his arm around you to lead the way.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon keeps you between him and Hondo, but after you enter the deputy’s office, he pushes you behind him as he looks through the drawers.

“Hey, that’s our courtroom upstairs,” Deacon points out, looking at the camera monitors. “There’s Jacobs.”

“Deacon,” Hondo breathes out, watching the men take Jacobs. “We should’ve tried harder to get him to come with us.”

“Hey, we didn’t have time. And listen, you deciding not to testify, that wasn’t exactly fair to him.”

“What, that wasn’t fair to Jacobs?” Hondo repeats incredulously. “What about the plaintiff? A city attorney shouldn’t be allowed to take a case and reassign it to bend justice.”

“All right, do some of these guys care more about winning than justice? Yeah,” Deacon admits. “But we got to work within the system.”

“We can’t do that anymore, Deac. What do you think?”

You point to yourself in question, surprised to be pulled into the conversation. Luckily, before you can reply, Deacon finds the key and pulls you into his side as he leads you out.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Door’s busted, they beat us here,” Deacon whispers, an arm extended over your waist as he keeps you against the wall.

“Be careful, they might still be in there,” Hondo warns.

You enter between them, sighing when you see the damage done.

“They have our guns.”

“Tan says Diaz knows we’re here,” Deacon says, looking at his phone.

Adrian Diaz yells, “Harrelson, Kay! We know you fools are down here. If you give up now, we won’t kill you.”

“Deac, give me your phone,” Hondo requests. “Give it to me.”

“Really going to make a call right now, Hondo?” you ask lightly.

Hondo slides the phone into his sock, tugging his pant leg over it. He points at you and then at the ceiling.

“Okay,” Deacon answers, nodding as he pulls you to the desk. 

Deacon stands on the desk, pushing a ceiling tile up and over. Hondo helps you onto the desk, and then Deacon lifts you up into the ceiling, following shortly behind you.

His hand finds yours as you wait in the dark, holding you gently. You listen as Hondo is taken away, and after a moment of silence, Deacon slides the ceiling tile away. He grips the rafter, lowering slowly and silently onto the desk below. Turning, he raises your hands, grabbing your hips and lowering you gently. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hands holding you firmly.

Nodding, you let him help you from the desk before following him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Standing beside him, you listen as Deacon calls his team, holding his hand in both of yours.

“Hey, it’s Deacon. Hondo’s been taken,” he reports. “Well, I managed to hide. Hondo gave himself up so we both wouldn’t get caught. We made it to the gun locker, but it was empty. They beat us to it. They were calling for us by name. Not sure how they knew we were here… They took Hondo to courtroom 1, first floor with the other hostages. Listen, I know Diaz set up a deadline. How much time we got? Tell me you guys have a plan… Wait a second, I remember three stairwells…”

You tune him out, preferring to focus on the feeling of him beside you rather than the danger of the situation. Looking down at his hand, you wonder if you’ll get to tell him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“They’re bringing my team in a helicopter,” Deacon whispers, waiting in a stairwell.

“And then what?” you reply.

“Remember your promise.”

You nod, squeezing Deacon’s hand. You trust him, and you will do anything and everything he tells you. Deacon releases your hand kindly, whispering for you to wait as he goes up the stairs.

“We’re good. It’s Deac,” Street whispers.

Deacon gestures for you to join him on the next landing.

“Hey. You all right?” someone asks.

“I’m good,” Deacon answers.

He puts a bulletproof vest over your head before pulling his own on. 

“Stay here.”

“But,” you begin, trailing off when Deacon cups your face in his hands.

“I will come back for you, every time. But I need you to stay here so I know you’re safe.”

You nod, mouthing, “I trust you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The door bangs open, hitting the wall behind it. You look around the corner slowly, rushing toward Deacon when you see him. He extends his hands, passing you your shoes. Taking them, you immediately drop them as you wrap your arms over Deacon’s shoulders and pull yourself as close as possible to him.

“Thank you for coming back. For keeping me safe,” you say against his neck.

“I’ll always come back for you,” he reminds you, his grip tight around your waist. “Will you let me take you to dinner for your bravery?”

Smiling, you pull back and counter, “Let me make you dinner for saving my life.”

“Good food and good company? Maybe I should save you more often.”

“Or you could just ask me on a date. Everyone else can see that I have a huge crush on you.”

“Let’s see how dinner goes first,” Deacon jokes.

“You’re not very good at this.”

“Then teach me your ways, Casanova,” Deacon replies, leaning forward to catch your lips.

Sighing against him, you’re glad you got this assignment and finally found the courage to admit how you feel about him to yourself. Now you must find a way to tell Deacon how you feel, though you think this kiss is a good start.

[indigosunsetao3]

(I’m picking these at random, so feel free to sub or swap as you see fit if I picked a dud of a fruit lol.)

🍐, 🥝, 🍋

Oh yay! No duds, just had to think on them for a bit.

🍐 Is there anything in canon that you absolutely hate and love to fix in fics?

Always going to be Soap’s fate. First game it super upset me. Second time around…I still haven’t played the newest one. I saw a spoiler, which I was pissed about at the time, which made me cry. Then I realized maybe, for once, having a spoiler wasn’t so bad because if I played it not knowing going in I would have been totally wrecked.

🥝 What’s your favorite trope/AO3 tag to write?

Has to be chance meetings. Of all the places, all the times, all the circumstances somehow they end up at the same place same time.

Emma surviving the hospital attack just because Ghost happened to end up behind her in the rescue line. Which ended up her meeting Soap that night who wanted to help an obviously traumatized woman (much to Ghost’s chagrin for a while. His goal was not a ‘meet cute’.).

Gaz running into Olivia at a job in a totally different county years later. She just happened to go to the restroom at the wrong time and he just happened to take pity on a man worried about his wife.

Alex being called in from the other side of the globe to rescue a scientist only to meet her family and have to save them. Then later when…you’ll have to wait 😉

Then this just comes up pretty often in my little one offs as well. Sometimes it happens without me even realizing.

🍋 What’s your favorite spicier trope to write?

This is a tie:

Secret affairs in the sense of no one knows they’re sleeping together…but everyone does anyway.

Jealousy, purposely done or not. Which then causes the other to feel the need to remind them who they are with.

[fly-chicken]

Im here today to talk to you about one of my special interests;

Señor Danny Trejó

This man has lived such a life at age 79; and is still kicking, but I think people don’t really appreciate all this man has been through to be who he is. I genuinely believe his biopic needs to be made bc oh my goodness.

CW: drug usage, incarceration experiences, tough home life, murder, stabbing, death penalty, violence (feel free to lmk more and I’ll add as pointed out)

Also to note; this is a historical summary. Aka the facts with as little of my opinion as I can manage (while considering that I do have a bias), I do not condone the violent acts mentioned. That being said I do sympathize with many actions being a product of circumstance and that this is a man trying to own his past while using his present to make a better future for himself and others. And THAT is why I respect the hell out of him

Ok let’s start this; spoiler alert I look like

By the end

Ok so Im gonna have to categorize this baby; a note, most of this is from his Wikipedia page and subsequent cited sources

Personal

-was born in (1944) as the child of an extramarital affair; his mothers husband was away fighting in WW2 at the time

-He’s been a fan of the LA Rams since their early days (1946) and some of his earliest memories are from sneaking into games as a child

-he fled LA with his family to Texas as a small child bc his father was wanted for stabbing someone. His father turned himself in a year after moving back to LA

-he purchased his childhood home and as of his 2020 biopic, still intermittently lives in it.

-he completed his high school diploma during his stay at Soledad correctional facility (likely during his time in solitary)

-among his many jobs between prison and film; Trejo helped construct the Cinerama Dome in California (now where many of his films have been screened at today) with a construction company as a labourer, a gardener and part time owner of a lawn company

-Trejo has been quoted to still have fears that his life is all just been a dream and that ‘hell wake up in prison with someone urging him to “go get some chow”

-Trejo has been a contributor to several books relating to prison life

-trejo published a cookbook in 2020 and his memoir in 2021

-As of 2020 Trejo owns 8 restaurants; including a taco restaurant, a cantina and a coffee and donut shop. His rainbow cauliflower tacos made the LA times fav recipes of 2017

-He has been married and divorced 4x with 3 children (however he helped raise 2 additional children with his second wife)

-Trejo is a registered Democrat

-battled liver cancer in 2010, moved to be closer to his mom in 2011. She passed while filming the Muppets most wanted in 2013. Although sad, Trejo recalls he didn’t truly break down until Kermit offered his apologies in character (due to his macho personality)

-In 2019 Trejo witnessed a car accident and helped rescue a small ychild from that very wreckage (trapped in the car seat in an overturned SUV)

Prison

-was first arrested at age 10, first incarcerated at age 12 at Eastlake Juvenile Hall

-was in various prisons within the California prison system from 1956-1969 (conflicting accounts say one term may have been till ‘72)

-notable stints include; three years at Camp Glen Rockey in San Dimas for stabbing a sailor in the face with broken glass, a stint in Los Angeles County in 1961 where he met Charles Manson (who Trejo describes as a “dirty, greasy, scrawny white boy” who was an allegedly talented hypnotist), Soledad in 1968 where he hit a guard with a rock during a prison riot on Cinco de Mayo. Due to this he was sent to solitary confinement and faced capital charges and the death penalty. He also completed the 12 step program at this time.

-His most memorable stint was in San Quentin in 1966; his heron use was exacerbated here. Here he was a debt collector and drug dealer; often engaging and witnessing acts of violence and occasional murder. He also picked up boxing in this stint and became both a champion of the lightweight and welterweight divisions throughout his other prison experiences.

-his final prison stint was five years of a ten year sentence, most commonly believed to have ended in 1969 (aged 25)

-he was known as the gossip queen of his cell block in several prisons

Drug Usage and Recovery

- Trejo had been using Marijuana since age 8, heron by age 12, and cocaine by age 13; all introduced by his uncle Gilbert

-Trejo overdosed on first heron fix (also under his uncle’s supervision)

- participated in his first drug deal at age 7

-completed the 12 step program during his time in solitary at Soledad. He has been quoted being sober since completing this program, and is celebrating 54 years in recovery

- Trejo became a substance abuse counsellor in 1973, and is still actively working to help substance abuse cases today

-in the 1980s Trejo worked in Western Pacific Med Corp, assisting with the establishment and operation of sober living houses. He also lived in the houses at this time

-He was called to help assist with the cocaine usage amongst teenagers on the set of Runaway Train (1985)

-Trejos work as an actor was meant to help further his work as a rehabilitation counsellor and he claimed it helped him as clients would recognize him as an actor

-While filming scenes at San Quentin for Blood In, Blood Out; trejo helped a prisoner (Mario Castillo) through the 12 step program and remained in touch after his release. Today him and Mario remain great friends and both speak around the country in both juvenile detention centres as well as rehabilitation centres about their experiences

Film

-his character Machete was created FOR the Spy Kids film

-the creator of the Spy Kids franchise is his second cousin

-Danny originally got into acting after meeting a boy in a sober living house who explained he worked a day job as an extra to make 50$ a day (in 1980); between the “easy money”, availability with his schedule and publicity he could provide to the Western Living House Org, Danny decided to find an agent for background rolls

-After being asked to help with cocaine issues on the set of Runaway Train, Trejo was recognized by the screenplay writer, Edward Bunker. Bunker has been a fellow inmate with Trejo in San Quentin and was also a fan of his boxing work. Bunker helped hire Trejo as a boxing trainer on the film and negotiated Trejos pay to be closer to ~$330 a day, due to his additional help on set and general knowledge/experience

-Bunker also helped land Trejo a role as a background actor in the prison scenes in Runaway

-Penitentiary 3 (1987) was his first billed role, during which he met one of the members of the Galbino crime family (one of the 5 mafia families in New York)

-in 1991 Trejo turned down a role offered by Edward James Olmos due to a call from the don of the Mexican Mafia advising him to take a role in Blood In, Blood Out (1993) instead

-During the filming of Blood In, Blood Out; Trejo experienced PTSD while filming his scenes in San Quentin. Especially when filming the scenes in C550, his previous cell from his time incarnated there

-Whike filming Anaconda (1997), Trejo was able to negotiate a higher salary when filming in Venezuela. As Trejo enjoyed leaving the hotel to socialize in his off time…during a possible coup. A particular incident with a group of teenagers with AK-47s brandished at Trejo over his combat boots, helped Trejo negotiate the higher salary to REMAIN at the hotel in his down time

-Trejo contracted Hepatitis C shortly before filming Spy Kids and concluded treatment and recovery just before its premiere (however had gotten so I’ll that his cast noticed his weight loss and demeanour in a different project filmed during spy kids post production)

-Trejo produced his first film in 2014

-To date Trejo has 445 acting credits on IMDB (between 1985-2023) and 84 on screen deaths (12 TV, 72 movies) according to cinemorge (+4 are music video deaths, +1 video game death)

-in total that would make Trejos risk of onscreen death per project roughly 20% per project (89/445)

In Conclusion

[dweemeister]

NOTE: This write-up contains full spoilers after the fifth paragraph.

Killers of the Flower Moon (2023)

Leading up to the theatrical release of Killers of the Flower Moon, director Martin Scorsese went on Turner Classic Movies (TCM) to present an evening of films that inspired his approach to his latest work. The first film of that evening's primetime schedule was the short silent film The Last of the Line (1914), directed by Jay Hunt. That Western short film starred a cast of almost entirely composed of Oglala Lakota actors alongside Japanese actor Sessue Hayakawa (a major silent film star) playing the chief's son, Tsuru Aoki as an American Indian woman, and various white actors as U.S. Cavalrymen. It is an unusual piece, as it is presented almost entirely from the Lakota chief's (Joe Goodboy) perspective. Both Killers of the Flower Moon and The Last of the Line tell tales in which the ways of white Americans subsume the traditions of and irrevocably traumatize American Indians.

Unlike The Last of the Line, Killers of the Flower Moon, distributed by Paramount and Apple, is based on actual events. Adapting David Grann’s nonfiction book of the same name, Killers of the Flower Moon concentrates on the Osage Reign of Terror – a series of murders of Osage tribespeople, relations, and allies in 1920s Oklahoma. In addition to the lives of the Osage and the perpetrators of these crimes, much of Grann’s book also documents the rise of the Bureau of Investigation (BOI, which became the FBI), as they were instrumental in the investigation in a fraction of these murders. By his admission, Martin Scorsese said that his and Eric Roth’s (1995’s Forrest Gump, 2021’s Dune) initial drafts of the screenplay concentrated too largely on its white characters. Recalling his viewing of The Last of the Line back in his university days, Scorsese thought it wise to consult with members of the Osage Nation (Chief Geoffrey Standing Bear was especially helpful) over how he might better depict Osage perspectives, and empower their voices.

Scorsese is not entirely successful in this respect, and I think he would be the first to agree that he could have highlighted the Osage characters with greater attention, despite the commercial and executive constraints on this production. Scorsese would also probably be the first to agree that he is not the most appropriate person to tell the story of the Osage Reign of Terror, as he all but acknowledges in the film’s closing moments. In spite of this, Killers of the Flower Moon represents extraordinary moral and personal growth from Scorsese in how he depicts criminals and their victims. It is a delicately made film that interrogates how avarice and casual racism can lead to unconscionably serial violence – a saga not exclusive to any one American Indian tribe.

For generations before Europeans sailed to the New World, the Osage people roamed the southern Great Plains, in what are now the states of Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, and Oklahoma. The annihilation of the American bison and the Indian Wars led to the Osage’s removal to a reservation on land that the U.S. federal government considered worthless (that reservation is coterminous with Osage County, Oklahoma). The discovery of oil on Osage territory in 1894 saw the Osage, by the 1920s, become some of the richest people per capita in the United States. After that historical context, we find World War I veteran Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) returning stateside to take a job with his uncle, William King Hale (Robert De Niro), on Hale’s vast ranch. Hale, an important force in local affairs, is a friend to the Osage – he even haltingly speaks their language. Some time after, Ernest begins courting Mollie Kyle (Lily Gladstone), a full-blooded Osage who, along with her family members, owns various oil headrights. Ernest and Mollie marry. Following their marriage, a rash of homicides of wealthy Osage sends torrents of fear through the tribal community – attracting the federal government’s attention after only far too much death.

The sizable ensemble cast also includes Jesse Plemons as Tom White, a former Texas Ranger turned BOI Agent; Tantoo Cardinal as Lizzie, Mollie’s mother; John Lithgow and Brendan Fraser as the competing attorneys in the murder trials; Cara Jade Myers, Janae Collins, and Jillian Dion as Mollie’s sisters Anna, Rita, and Minnie. Only Indigenous Americans played the indigenous roles, speaking or not – also including William Belleau, Tatanka Means, Everett Waller, and the late Larry Sellers.

It is not often that I cite a film for a lack of exposition, but that is a concern early on here. Scorsese and Roth’s screenplay poorly explains a mechanism contributing to the motivations of these murders. In response to sensationalized reporting from white-owned news media about the Osage’s wealth, the federal government forced full-blooded (and some partial-blooded) Osage to enter into financial guardianships – effectively deeming them a second-class citizen or an “incompetent”, unable to spend a certain amount of money without their white guardian’s permission. In a film that progressively unfolds the plotting of its perpetrators, this is among the most malignant practices in asserting white control over the Osage. The lack of much explanation here is an unnecessary complication for non-readers already attempting to keep track of the dramatis personae and digest the various subplots of the film’s sprawling 206 minutes.

Additionally, the film does not concentrate on its Osage characters to the extent some would prefer. As various Indigenous Americans have commented, such an approach by Scorsese and Roth ensures that the film’s intended audience are all those who are not indigenous. We see little of Osage life outside of moments of racial abuse, violence, and funerals. Killers of the Flower Moon makes no attempt to explain how the formally educated Osage of Mollie’s generation (including Mollie herself) were taught in schools that forbade the speaking of the Osage language, attempting to “reform” American Indian children to fit into white society.

Yet the audience glimpses other moments: naming ceremonies, the merger of Catholic and Osage traditions in significant life events (such as marriage), and even the ritual dance in the film’s final moments. In these fragments of Osage customs, it is also noticeable how much these naming ceremonies, marriages, funerals, and other more mundane moments become less grounded in the old practices over time. The bittersweet moment where Mollie’s mother, Lizzie, meets and walks away with her departed ancestors is the moment where, for this film’s purposes, the Osage’s disconnection to the past becomes pronounced. Mollie and her fellow Osage attempt to adhere to those customs, but, with the passing of elders like her mother, the Osage ways from time immemorial are all but consigned to the history books. The depiction of the Osage is always respectful, avoiding damaging and noble stereotypes.

Despite the lack of deeper Osage representation, this is not to say the filmmakers waste an excellent Lily Gladstone as Mollie (the film’s moral center). As Mollie, who has diabetes, begins to suffer from the effects of intentionally tarnished batches of insulin, Gladstone’s involvement with the narrative recedes in the film’s closing act. But before that, Gladstone plays Mollie wonderfully with self-assured posture and gait, sly and understated humor, and a piercing silent glance at critical moments. Juxtaposed with DiCaprio’s portrayal of Ernest, one has to wonder how Mollie falls for him. If Gladstone’s performance reminds some of Olivia de Havilland’s in The Heiress (1949), that is no coincidence (Gladstone also physically resembles de Havilland somewhat). Scorsese’s portrayal of Mollie and Ernest’s relationship contains revelations and moments similar to that found in The Heiress, and that film was an invaluable reference for Scorsese and his lead actors during production.

This is not so much a glimpse into the Osage way of life in 1920s Oklahoma as it is an interrogation of how white American racism (the perpetrators, at least in this treatment, are all white) led to a series of murders committed and discussed nonchalantly. Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon is more concerned with how Ernest Burkhart’s and William Hale’s obsession for wealth leads them to conspire to kill Osage tribespeople for their oil headrights. Hale is the ringleader in the murders of at least two dozen Osage (De Niro is appropriately loathsome despite playing someone who should be middle-aged); the easily-manipulated Ernest (a solid outing by DiCaprio) one of many conspirators abiding by Hale’s orders.

Scorsese has long depicted American organized crime in films like Mean Streets (1973), Goodfellas (1990), Casino (1995), and The Irishman (2019). Since The Departed (2006), there has been a noticeable evolution in how Scorsese frames his criminal protagonists. All of these films, to some extent, concern themselves with how unchecked male egos – rife with delusions of self-grandeur and sexual gratification – descend into violence and moral depravity. Yet over the last decade and a half in films like The Departed and The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), but especially The Irishman, Scorsese has leaned into his Catholic upbringing to express his characters’ sense of profound guilt. Whether or not there is true repentance in the face of their actions stirs open questions and vociferous debates about the morality of these characters or, sometimes, Scorsese’s filmmaking itself.

As dead flies give perfume a bad smell, so a little folly outweighs wisdom and honor. Ecclesiastes 10:1

It does not happen often in the film, but Scorsese shows both De Niro’s Hale, DiCaprio’s Ernest, and their fellow conspirators swatting away flies multiple times in Killers of the Flower Moon – usually just after or before committing or discussing a murder or some other heinous action. Flies appear to indicate the corrupted souls of this film, a Biblical personification of sin and lack of remorse. The white characters' casual conversations about violence against the Osage and their refusal to take responsibility for all of their misdeeds – including Ernest, despite testifying against his uncle at the federal trial – suggests that such attitudes towards American Indians were widely-held. Though the U.S. government is no longer engaging in a formal war against Indigenous Americans and Klansmen no longer parade down the streets of Osage County without anyone blinking an eye, a violent epidemic against Indigenous Americans still persists.

The tremendous efforts of BOI Agent Tom White and the federal prosecutors to bring Hale, Ernest, and their associates to justice were a drop in the bucket in respect to sheer amount of suspicious deaths among the Osage from the late 1910s to the early 1930s. Scores, perhaps hundreds, of other murders or Osage tribespeople were never investigated or listed inaccurately as accidents, suicide, or reasons unknown. One aspect of the narrative that Scorsese holds over the book’s original author, David Grann, is that Scorsese’s treatment repudiates any notion of a white savior. Scorsese downplays White’s role, in comparison to his treatment in Grann’s book (which, because it is also a chronicle of the rise of what would become the FBI, reads almost like a procedural). It is the Osage who save themselves – they are the ones who gather the money to lobby and pay for the federal investigation.

Scorsese’s collaborators behind the camera provide incredible artistry. Mexican cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto (2000’s Amores perros, The Irishman) has had a banner year, alongside his work on Barbie (2023). Prieto demonstrates a visual mastery in a variety of scenarios: widescreen landscapes of the prairies with oil derricks far in the background, sweeping crane and dolly shots in scenes teeming with activity, and tense closeups of white and Osage faces. But what would Prieto’s work be without editor Thelma Schoonmaker (1980’s Raging Bull, 2011’s Hugo)? Schoonmaker, a Scorsese regular, can take what, on paper, should be a meandering narrative and turn it into a movie with a distinctive rhythm and storytelling efficiency – even if it runs almost three-and-a-half hours. To keep Killers of the Flower Moon’s 206 minutes (without intermission, which I find ableist even though I never left my seat in the cinema) comprehensible and never tedious is among Schoonmaker’s crowning achievements an editor.

Meanwhile, costume designer Jacqueline West (2001’s Quills, 2022’s Dune) asked Julie O’Keefe, an Osage Nation member, to serve as a costume cultural adviser. Together, the two called upon the Osage Nation to help in researching what the Osage would have worn in the 1920s. West, for her work in The Revenant (2015), had previously undertaken research on the clothing of Plains Indians. But collaborating with O’Keefe made West realize how the costume design in Killers of the Flower Moon needed to be specifically Osage. Osage artisans sewed together all the Osage blankets, garments, and shawls seen in this film. The unusual collaboration between West and O’Keefe lends to Killers of the Flower Moon a visual authenticity magnificent to behold.

When it comes to music in a Martin Scorsese movie, Scorsese tends to rely on preexisting music to establish the setting. Noteworthy original scores are not a given in Scorsese films (Bernard Herrmann’s score to 1976’s Taxi Driver and Howard Shore’s for Hugo the outliers). Robbie Robertson (guitarist/songwriter for The Band, in addition to his solo Americana music and rock career) is the composer here, but his score barely warrants notice. Like O’Keefe, Robertson also collaborated with Osage musicians to implement their musical traditions with his blues-influenced electric guitar. The electric guitar and Hammond organ lines might, in other hands, be glaringly anachronistic and inappropriate for the purposes of a project like Killers of the Flower Moon. However, Scorsese elects for minimal use of music, relegating Robertson’s score as nothing but aural wallpaper to fit a scene – without narrative or thematic development, in service of “vibes”. Most modern film critics might consider this “effective” composing; I deem it uninteresting in the context of the movie and otherwise. If anything, the music that stands out most in this film was composed and performed by the Osage themselves.

The criminals inhabiting a Scorsese movie used to, despite their deeds, possess a swagger to their criminality. Since The Irishman, that criminal swagger is no longer. With the depiction of the Osage characters and their loved ones, Scorsese offers the viewpoints of the victim’s survivors to a substantial degree for the first time. Though perhaps not as developed as one might wish, to include these views is a sort of personal artistic penitence for Scorsese.

In the penultimate scene of Killers of the Flower Moon, we find ourselves in a production of the radio show The Lucky Strike Hour, with the performers wrapping up an episode covering the Osage Reign of Terror. The Lucky Strike Hour was produced in conjunction with the BOI/FBI to dramatize real-life cases. The program lionized J. Edgar Hoover (who headed the BOI/FBI from 1924-1972) and glorified the processes of the Bureau and policing at-large. One by one, the performers read off the fates of the main figures to wind down the epilogue: the Shoun brothers; Byron Burkhart (Ernest’s younger brother); Ernest; Hale. Finally, up steps Martin Scorsese to the microphone, breaking the fourth wall. He reads a few sentences about Mollie. Mollie Burkhart remarried after divorcing Ernest and died of diabetes in 1937. Despite the murders of her sisters, potential murder her mother, and Ernest’s confession, her obituary made no mention of the Osage murders.

Scorsese looks at the audience.

Cut to a modern-day Osage ceremony. So they remain.

For more than a century, Hollywood films concerning American Indians like The Last of the Line and Killers of the Flower Moon have been told by non-indigenous storytellers. Similar situations exist in other narrative artforms. These works have almost always been narratives about the damage done to Indigenous Americans’ lives due to the encroachment of non-indigenous people. As honestly and nobly as Jay Hunt and Martin Scorsese attempted to make a movie about American Indians, there is a moral dilemma in presenting Indian suffering as a form of entertainment. Scorsese acknowledges this in his reading of Mollie’s epilogue, reclaiming that space from the radio show away from J. Edgar Hoover and the BOI/FBI.

In a film industry so rife with performative nods to diversity without due action, he also must have intuited this dilemma of depicting Indigenous American suffering when he first approached the Osage Nation for assistance on this movie. So why bother to make Killers of the Flower Moon if he is not the most suitable person to tell a story that concerns the Osage?

My answer might not be the one you wish to read. The environment that fosters narrative art, in any medium, prefers dramatic obligations over moral ones. Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon is an attempt to bend that dynamic – to expose, in harsh lighting, the complicity of those who facilitated these murders and those who, even to the slightest degree, benefitted from these tragic events. Those beneficiaries include Martin Scorsese and his non-indigenous cast and crew for making this film. Perhaps this sort of moralism is too absolute for you, the reader. Yet, with those final moments of Killers of the Flower Moon, such questions were certainly on the filmmakers’ minds. It is a perilously risky ending that I found deserved and poignant.

The Osage of Reign of Terror was once an American media sensation. Before the publication of Grann’s book and in the century since, it has largely been forgotten outside members of the Osage Nation. It is valuable to debate who should author something like Killers of the Flower Moon (the book and the movie) and how they do so. The greater good is that we learn about the inhumanity of these murders and the humanity of the victims and those who tried to stop these killings. The winds across the Oklahoma prairie whisper in remembrance, and the least we should do is listen.

My rating: 9.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[bluishjelly]

🍰 “more things about.. me?!”

there are various tracks that easily snatch my heart once i hear it, but lately i’m into enhypen and kiss of life! after all, i’m still often listen to other k-pop songs as well—hit me up if you want to exchange the playlist because it’ll be a really great idea, righty-right?!

uhm, speaking about the taste of man and woman, i actually put my whole attention into jay enhypen, juyeon theboyz, and sullyoon nmixx. ୨୧ they were both the first member of the group i looked at, and all of suddenly i fascinated with their charms. their personalities and stage presence always make me gasped while watching their performance!

🌷 “oh.. my favorite stuff!?”

besides the world of k-pop, my musical heart skips a beat for the delightful sounds of khhrnb (i’m absolutely smitten with big naughty, sion, zion.t, iu, dabin, bibi, and countless others..), western tunes (ariana grande, beabadoobee, taylor swift, lana del rey, james arthur, rex orange county, and more steal my heart..), and the melodies crafted by talented indonesian musicians like tulus and raissa. my playlist is a delightful mix of global melodies that bring me endless joy!

i also love to read (i’m a bookworm) and webtoon enjoyer! i might do spoiler, so yeah, i need to remind you that my account is not spoiler-free! 📖

cartoons hold my heart captive, an eternal love affair. “my little pony” and “tinker bell” reigns supreme in my world. and i’m absolutely in love with movie.. k-drama and anime! they’re like my escape from reality, where i can immerse myself in these amazing stories and forget about everything else for a little while. ᠀ ׅ࣪ ♡

oh, plato is my comfort zone to play many games with my friends too! ׄ ࣭ ១ plox, anyone?

and i must say you have to bear with my timeline if sometimes i post a lot of cat pictures since i’m a cat owner, i love to praise my cats when they act really cute! 🐱

spreading spotify links is my jam! get ready for some melodic enchantment. and when i stumble upon delightful tweets, i hit that retweet button to infuse my timeline with all things cozy and wholesome.

[burgundybmw]

Munson's Mixtape

Mixtape Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cunningham!Reader

Word Count: 2,485

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, brief mentions of creepy male behavior (not Eddie), more references to Mrs. Cunningham being a shitty mom.

Summary: Chrissy has been acting weird, and like a good big sister Y/N drives to Hawkins from Notre Dame to check in on her. Only to find out she has plans to meet up with Eddie Munson. Things take a turn for the worse and now Y/N gets wrapped in to the horrors of Hawkins. Hey, at least she has the company of the guitarist she was sweet on back in high school for comfort.

Author’s Note: I took some creative liberties with the Eddie and Chrissy scene, that's going to happen a decent amount throughout the plot. However this fic is mostly canon compliant (unless the Duffer Brothers do something I don't like in Volume 2). Also I made the reader's physical description vague, I know Chrissy and her family are blonde and white but that doesn't matter for this fic. I'll get into how that makes sense in later chapters! no spoilers. Also reader is about 20 here, same age as Eddie.

Track Two

Y/N kept a distance from Chrissy as she followed her sister into the wooded area behind Hawkins High. As she watched her bob in between the trees, Y/N began to realize where she was headed. There was this old picnic table within the clearing of the woods. It used to be a meet up spot when Reefer Rick was dealing to the student body of Hawkins. She went there once as a sophomore to pick up weed for a Halloween party Marissa Clarence was hosting at her house. Rick always gave her the creeps, constantly asking if she wanted something stronger. Y/N didn't mess around with any of that, and repeatedly told him no. She also didn't like the way he stared at her, like she was an extra in Cheerleaders Gone Wild Vol. 6. After that experience she always made someone else on the team pick up stuff for any future parties. To her knowledge Chrissy didn't smoke, and Rick was supposed to be serving time in county jail for drug possession. So Y/N had no idea who her sister was meeting with, and the thought didn't bring her any comfort.

As she got closer to the clearing Y/N hung back behind the tree line, keeping a close eye on her sister as she stared off into space. Chrissy was nervous, arms wrapped around herself and searching around the trees as if some monster would pop out any second. All of the sudden Chrissy's face changed, she looked terrified, the kind of fear you have when you're walking alone at night and realize someone is following you. Before Y/N could react, she saw Eddie Munson walking towards Chrissy, stumbling as she ran into his chest.

Eddie looked different since she last saw him. His hair was even longer than it was senior year, and it looked like he grew a couple inches, possibly filled out a bit more. From the distance she was from the table, Y/N could only partially hear some of the conversation between Eddie and Chrissy. He looked happy to see her, and Chrissy's nervous expression began to vanish. Y/N's stomach began to swirl at the thought that Eddie and Chrissy were close. Her sister never told her that they were friends, she always talked her ear off about Jason Carver. Were Eddie and Chrissy having some sort of affair?

Once Eddie opened up his black tin box Y/N realized that her previous suspicions were right. It looked like Chrissy was just looking to buy off of Eddie, he must of taken over Rick's position of Hawkins High's dealer of choice. Y/N let out a breath of relief, but quickly realized that she wasn't in the clear yet. She hoped that Eddie wasn't anything like Rick, pushing hard drugs on to teenagers. A little weed is one thing, she'd be a hypocrite to chastise Chrissy for that, but anything else was a cause for concern. Y/N took a few steps closer towards the clearing, staying behind the trees so she could hear their conversation.

Eddie dramatically threw himself off the table and Y/N stopped behind a large maple trunk. Her heart was racing, thinking she had been caught, but he was blissfully unaware that there was someone else in the woods with them. From this distance she could hear her sisters giggles at Eddie's antics. Y/N sunk down to her knees at the base of the tree, face inching around the corner to get a better look.

"Different? Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet." Eddie lowered the collar of his shirt to display the ink on his skin. Y/N didn't know he had any tattoos, he must have gotten them after she graduated. They looked good on him.

"You played guitar right?" Chrissy asked, Y/N remembered Eddie's old band. She tried to go to one of his shows over winter break but her mother wouldn't have it.

"Still do, still do.. We play at the-" Eddie began before Chrissy interrupted his thought.

"The Hideout! Yea! My sister Y/N wanted to go to one of your shows around Christmas but Mom wouldn't let her. Said it was a bar filled with old drunks" Y/N could feel her face grow hot, she told Chrissy that when she stole a bottle of her mother's chardonnay and brought it up to her bedroom. Booze was like a truth serum to her, she would just go on and on spilling all of her inner thoughts she would be too embarrassed to say normally.

"I mean she's not wrong... it's not exactly The Garden but you gotta start somewhere, right? so... wait.. did you say your sister?" Eddie asked hair whipping around to face Chrissy.

"Yea Y/N Cunningham? She was in your year, well your first senior year. She used to tutor you?"

"Yea, no. I ugh.. I remember her. Um how's she doing?" He turned around then, playfully punching the tree behind him.

"She's good! She's a cheerleader for Notre Dame now, majoring in Philosophy."

"Philosophy?" A brief look of surprise on his face. "Makes sense though. She ugh, she used to carry that Dostoevsky book with her. I remember Nate Hawthorn called her a commie at the library one time and she rolled her eyes told him that if he payed attention in global he'd know that the book came out 37 years before the Russian Revolution..." Eddie laughed, hair swaying over his shoulders as he reminisced. "That's cool... good for her. She probably gets a lot of shit for that." Y/N nodded in response, as if they could both see her. Her mother lost it when she told her what she was planning on majoring in. They compromised in the end, she continue 'wasting her time' on philosophy as long as she went to law school after graduation. Y/N didn't want to be a lawyer like her father, but didn't want to argue about it any further. She liked her philosophy classes, she could debate and argue with her classmates in a free space, without fear of jumping outside the comforts of some social circle like she had back in high school.

"Yea Mom wasn't too thrilled, but she's happy and that's what matters to me." Chrissy replied. "You know, you're not what I'd thought you'd be like..."

"Mean and scary?" Eddie moved his hair to hide his face, the same quirk he had with her back in high school.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you'd be mean and scary too."

"Me?" Chrissy whispered, massive smile on her face. Y/N could see that her sister was eased by the natural charm Eddie possessed.

"Terrifying.. I should have known better though. I thought the same thing of your sister when she started tutoring me." Y/N frowned at that. Did she really give off that impression?

"She wasn't though!" Eddie quickly responded. "She was actually one of the few decent people at Hawkins at the time. You know, she never once called me a freak?" Chrissy shook her head, she was a sophomore at the time, they only briefly interacted in the halls and cheer practice. Y/N hung around with her fellow seniors, and Chrissy didn't want to look like the annoying little sister who always tagged around her big sister.

"Yea she ugh.. she was kind to me. I remember that, her kindness. I knew she was busy with pom poms and being Madam President and all that, but she took the time to try and help me. I know the guidance counselor made her do it, but she seemed to really want me to succeed. I felt bad for failing her..." he trailed off.

"I promise you didn't fail her! She knew you were doing the best you could, she never mentioned you disappointing her or anything." Eddie's face was a bit red as he listened to Chrissy speak, fiddling around with the rings on his fingers.

"She ugh.. talked, about me? To you?" he asked, clearly nervous.

"Yea like all time! She said you were.. what's the word she used... Refreshing!" Eddie's eyebrows furrowed at that, and Y/N mentally begged her sister to stop talking.

"What do you mean? Refreshing?" he asked.

"Well like, she thought a lot of the guys she hung around with at the time were shallow and pompous. She liked that you weren't like that. Y/N said that you were unapologetically yourself! And it was refreshing that you didn't care what people thought of you, that you weren't scared to say what you thought, or scared to act the way you do. She thought you were brave." Eddie's head fell back as he let out a fully belly laugh. Both Cunningham sisters looked at him with confusion written on their faces.

"Oh god, ha... if only she knew." He shook his head, putting his face in his hands.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the not caring about people talking shit about me is mostly true, but not afraid to say what I think? Me? Brave? Couldn't be further from the truth." Chrissy waited for him to continue, a not yet awkward silence falling between the two.

"You see, I am in fact scared like all the time" Eddie admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No way!" Chrissy yelled.

"Yes way!"

"I don't believe you" Chrissy shook her head, ponytail swishing behind her.

"You see here Miss. Cunningham, I can prove it to you"

"How?"

"Well, I was smitten with... this girl right. Totally head over heels, ha, it was pathetic really. I didn't have a shot in hell with this chick, totally out of my league. First of all, she's smart as hell. Like, Einstein level smart. Not only that, she's gorgeous, and sunny? Yea, she's sunny. She lights up any room she walks in. She's the type of girl you'd be proud to bring home to your parents. Show her off ya know? I would've given anything to call her my girl..." Y/N's stomach sank at the admission. She knew she had no right to be jealous of whoever this girl was, she had no claim over Eddie Munson. She hasn't even spoken to him in nearly two years, and yet, the green eyed monster was sitting pretty over her shoulder, seething with envy.

"So what did you do?"

"That's precisely my point, I did nothing. Didn't have the balls to ask her out, and whenever I did talk to her I was always fumbling around. I couldn't think of the right words to say. I tried to do it with music, but that clearly didn't work." he scoffed. Y/N could picture it. Eddie sitting there, writing a song to woo this mystery girl, performing it, only to be shot down by her. Well good riddance, Eddie was better off.

"Even when she left I thought about her. I couldn't tell you how many times I sat in my van, keys in the ignition, ready to go drive to her and tell her how I feel, be all John Hughes about it... but I was too chickenshit to actually do it."

"Well maybe it's not too late! You could totally do all of that!" Chrissy replied. "You're a good guy! I'm sure if you showed up at her door with a bouquet of roses or something and admit how you feel she would say yes!" Y/N really wanted her sister to shut up now.

"She probably doesn't even remember me. Some loser she knew from Hawkins, probably has some Tom Cruise lookalike boyfriend now. But thank you... Anyway, flattery totally works with me, so.. 25% off discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, ya know." Eddie reached into his tin box, grabbing a plastic baggy of weed from his stash. Chrissy's faced changed suddenly, the nervous look back on her face. The smile she had on before vanished and forgotten.

"Do you have anything... maybe... stronger?"

Eddie's face changed as well, a look of concern now gracing his features. It's one thing for a cheerleader asking him to score some dope, but hard drugs? For Chrissy Cunningham? Y/N really hoped he wouldn't give her anything. Flashbacks of her younger self in the same Hawkins cheer uniform Chrissy wore went through her mind. With Rick trying to push coke or ketamine on to her.

"I mean... yea I do, some Special K Rick left back at my trailer, but are you sure? I don't usually deal with that shit, it's hard stuff." At this moment Y/N really wished she has telepathy, her mind screaming at her sister say no.

"Yes." Shit.

"Well, my campaign is starting in like 20 minutes, and you have to get back to cheer for the laundry basket game. So, I guess I can drive you to my trailer after. If you're 100% sure."

"I'm sure" Chrissy was dead set on this. Y/N was livid, there was no way in hell she would allow it. She's seen what K does to people. At the beginning of the semester she went to this frat party with her roommate, and a bunch of the brothers were sitting in a circle passing it around. They all looked like zombies, eyes hazy, words slurring, barely capable of sitting up right. Nearly catatonic. She'd rather die than see Chrissy hurt herself like that.

"Alright then, I guess I'll see you after the game. Meet me in the parking lot, you know what my van looks like right?"

"I do."

"Okay, ugh see you then." Chrissy got up and left to head back to the school, but Eddie stayed behind. Y/N watched her sister go until she was out of sight, and turned to Eddie who was packing away his things. That's when Y/N stood up, and marched over to the clearing, not caring at this point if she made a sound.

Eddie heard a branch snap and looked over towards the noise only to find Y/N Cunningham stomping towards him. Fists at her sides and a sour look on her face. He was in absolute shock, had no idea how long she'd been there. He prayed to any god that was out there that she didn't hear his conversation with Chrissy, figure out he was talking about her. Eddie would rather the ground swallow him whole then have Y/N know he was still hung up on her all these years.

Eddie hastily stood up, nearly knocking over his stash when Y/N waltzed up to him. Standing inches away, staring at him with those expressive eyes that haunted his memories. She looked pissed, and if that look wasn't directed towards him he'd let his thoughts run wild with how good it looks on her.

"Care to explain to me why you're planning on giving Ketamine to my 18 year old sister Eddie?"

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged in any of the fics!