#bc as always

[psychotic-nonsense]

Eddie Munson died.

He was eaten by the bats, injured beyond help. He gave his last words and died in the arms of one of the few people he ever truly felt loved by.

And then there was Steve.

Steve and Nancy and Robin, showing up and bringing him back after just a few minutes. They wrap him up and keep him awake and get him out and save him.

Eddie survived. He's patched up and comatose for a while. His friends- scratch that, his new family fights for his freedom and innocence. He's welcomed back into the world a little raw around the edges - physically, mentally, emotionally, socially - but otherwise okay. Max is safe, Vecna is dead, and the Upside Down is no more.

The government cleared up everything. Reunites nephew and uncle in a fancy new house. Eddie finishes high school with flying colors, and he has an eternity of support to make it through life. A second chance, his own way.

Eddie gets to see his friends - Gareth and Jeff and The Freak Sworn to Secrecy (Harold) - and meets the Byers-Hopper family. Finds kindred in a similarly revived former Chief. Joins the Party like he was there from the beginning.

Eddie falls in love, like the sap he is. And apparently, Steve is a similar sap. It's young love and it's beautiful and the Party is supportive - though the kids are their usual selves, it's all in good taste. They watch the kids graduate, help Robin move on to college, and soon after, Eddie heals the taut rope between the universally bound siblings by moving he and Steve into the same town. It's rough but it's right, and the kids and their parents and Wayne visit often.

Life is perfect, for once in his miserable life, and Eddie has found himself weeping on more than one occasion for how happy he is. He's older than he ever believed he would get, healed beyond the aches and scars, and he's all the healthier for all the distance, the war, and the loss, however brief. Of course, he isn't without his nightmares, but they fade with time.

The one that refuses to is his only worry nowadays. A reoccurring but randomly timed nightmare, where he's shackled to a concrete floor, trapped in darkness. His body is bony and inhuman, elongated teeth and gangly hands with claws, large wings ripping from his back, and though he can't see it, he can feel the black sickness visibly coursing through his veins. He cries out in these nightmares, straining and pulling against the shackles, the darkness, his own body - the vision may be fake but the fear never is - and though he screams words they sound almost like the screeches of the very monsters that killed him, as though he is now one of them.

Eddie wakes every time to Steve holding him, their room bathed in comforting light, Steve's arms covering the very place on his back that would behold his wings. He talks him down softly, responds to everything Eddie says, makes him feel seen and heard and safe and alive and human. The only hiccup in paradise.

And though Eddie knows it's just his brain playing tricks on him, the history never leaving him, something about the nightmares feels too real. Too wrong to be imagination. Too intricate to be coincidence. The nightmares continue, the darkness shifts, more time passes between them but they always come back.

Then, one of them abruptly ends when a door opens, and a shape looking suspiciously like the Dustin of the Upside Down bursts in.

The Dustin from 7 years ago.

An abrupt and sharp ending.

Like Eddie wasn't supposed to see that.

- - - - - - - - - -

Eddie Munson died.

He was eaten by the bats, injured beyond help. He gave his last words and died in the arms of one of the few people he ever truly felt loved by.

And then there was no one.

The worlds merged together. The teens were too late. They had to leave, or they'd lose more and more and more than just one.

Dustin kicked and screamed and begged. Steve pulled him away, pleading and aching and guilty. Nancy and Robin watched, silent and somber and pained.

Eddie was abandoned. Left in the clutches of the Upside Down.

The Party went on to avenge him, trapped in a new apocalyptic Hawkins. Smoke burst from the rip in reality, clouding the world in storms of lightning and monsters. The town became a free for all, the only "saving grace" being the minimal aid from an increasingly unhelpful government. Food is scarce, war is infinite, and the only thing anyone has is each other. But when the people are in shambles and their only savior are children, there isn't much hope left.

The Byers and Hoppers are back, but Max is stuck in limbo, where not even El could find her. Dustin tells Eddie's uncle what's happened, and he demands to join to finish what his nephew started, so he may rest in peace. The kids are determined, the adults barely know what's happening, and the teens are worn down. No one knows what to do, but all they want to do is survive. Of course, they also want their friends back, but those they've lost are now the safest of the entire Party. At least death is peaceful once you're there.

Then, Hopper, El, and Jonathan are out on patrol when they're attacked. A singular being, humanoid but bent to the Upside Downs whims and ways. It's body is bony and inhuman, elongated teeth and gangly hands with claws, large wings ripping from it's back, with that black sickness visibly coursing through it's veins. They think it's a new tool from Vecna's twisted mind, a poor victim twisted to become a soldier for the cause that killed them.

But when they incapacitate it, wrap it up, and bring it back to the Party, the others see the clothes, the rings, the face, and they know who it is.

Eddie. Munson.

Since he's the only one of this kind - and because it's Eddie - they chain him to the basement of their new hideout. They watch him lash out and snarl and be monstrous, and the guilt rises in the witnesses with each growl.

They left him there. They made him like this. They made him die, sacrificed himself for them, and this is what he gets for it.

They take care of him. Dustin, Wayne, Steve, El, they take turns talking to him, trying to find something left in there. Eddie, humanity, Vecna, something other than this creature wearing Eddie's skin. There are some sleepless nights, where the Party thinks they can hear Eddie screaming from the basement, begging for freedom and help and comfort. But the mind plays tricks, and they know better than to fall for it.

Until one night, when Dustin's on patrol for the creature. He bursts into everyone's rooms, demanding they wake up.

Because Dustin had heard the human words that night. Was so tired he confused it for reality, and burst into the basement.

And he saw something in the creature's reaction. Fear, terror, recognition, hope.

Humanity.

Eddie.

Before the creature slumped over, then snapped up and was back to snarling and growling. An immediate reaction, but Dustin saw it still.

But it wasn't played like a trick. Dustin barely saw anything before the creature was back to its ways.

Less like Vecna wanted him to see it.

More like Dustin shouldn't have.

[vimbry-moved]

some of my favourite spongebob moments are when they accentuate the gag w/ a live-action punchline

[ottosbigtop]

I think we as a society should bring back brotps. I think we should be weirder about characters being friends the same way people are weird about ships. Make those two characters who interacted once or twice besties. Make it difficult for them to get rid of each other even if they want to. Go nuts

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[ggenggar]

the four F’s (and Daisuke)

[samipekoe]

if Miku was knocking on my door I would simply let her in

[stealingpotatoes]

the illness post is still getting notes (???!! <3) and that means people are still telling me to get better soon, which is really nice but im gonna be too powerful if i get any better

[anbaisai]

The Jamil Viper decision tree when he is (most unfortunately) caught off guard (please disregard the fact that he does in fact have a hood in the "object nearby" branch. he is simply panicked.)

[t00thpasteface]

"i've just been working on a... celebrity impression. it's for a sting operation of sorts i've been putting together. yes as a matter of fact it WILL keep me busy tonight—"

[jordanswitches]

one of the hottest things ever is forced orgasms. someone fighting their body for me. getting them really really close and telling them not to cum and they're like straining and clenching their muslces trying to hold it back, even though they know i'm not gonna stop in time and their orgasm is inevitable. but they'll try anyway because they want to be good for me so bad. "stopstopstop, please, i'm gonna cum" awww you can't hold it for me? just a little longer? i know you can do it baby. i know you wanna cum so bad and it feels so good and you just wanna give into the feeling, but hold it. you know i'll ruin it if you don't.

[lichposting]

I’m really enamored with the dynamic of two characters who work perfectly in tandem, like pacific rim drift compatible level, but they don’t like each other. It’s not even as strong an emotion as hate it’s just a very neutral-negative dislike, but they still act in perfect concert and their individual abilities are fully complementary

[lungthief]

sometimes u just gotta remind yourself that while ace attorney is about law and justice and stuff it is also about a bunch of young adults living in [CALIFORNIA]

[crimeronan]

god i wish i wouldn't have to explain the intricacies of the neopets economy to you guys to give the full context for this but. the new neopets team that took over from jumpstart pledged that they were going to curb the inflation of rare items, which is great because a lot of rare items are worth literally hundreds of millions of neopoints, they are unbuyable unless you've been playing actively for 20 years. they did this earlier with a site festival that included random loot boxes, some of which had Unbelievably Fucking Rare And Precious items worth 200 million neopoints apiece.

well.

today they have gone a step further. by releasing this year's trick-or-treat bags. and having the trick-or-treat bags be stuffed to the brim with unbelievably fucking rare stamps, weapons, paint brushes, defense magic, and other unbuyables. (all prohibitively expensive and in-high-demand types of items.)

jellyneo, the premier neopets website, has recorded prices of some items plummeting from 2,000,000 neopoints to 4,000 neopoints IN THE LAST THREE HOURS. this is when most people haven't even heard about the event or OPENED THEIR BAGS YET.

and of course. cherry on top. 20-year-old account holders are crytyping on the site events neoboard about how mean and cruel it is to make rare stamps part of the prize pool, because their entire identity hinges on being part of the neopian bourgeoisie, and they are having MELTDOWNS over their assets being devalued until they're part of the lowly proletariat.

this is a children's game for children btw.

none of the money is real.

i'm having such a good time.

[artistotel]

hey! for todays protest, i made this little zine about palestine (holding just simple and basic information).

you can download the zine here, fold it yourself, and distribute it around.

no credit is needed. feel free to leave it around bars, protests, or wherever. simply print it (borderless) and fold it. here is a tutorial on how to do it.

dont stay silent. there is a genocide of horrendous, atrocious proportions going on. also if you are a zionist here to argue with me, i dont plan to entertain you at all, not on my art blog. fuck off, you'll be swiftly blocked. i see enough of you clowns on my main and i have no energy for you. you can skip the death threats too bc i dont give a shit.

(i'm off to get ready for a surgery now, i just wanted to post it before this. if you need anything, i might take a bit to reply)

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[turnaboutstar]

THE TRIPS TO EUROPE TO SEE EDGEWORTH ARE ACTUALLY CANON????? I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A RANDOM THING PEOPLE HEADCANONED