#comments of despair

[wheels-of-despair]

Part of me wants to do the "I'm just some loser with a brain that never shuts up" dance, another wants to accuse you of calling me boring. 😂 I'll settle for showing you my face while reading this:

🥺

And... what if I told you... that I felt so bad about doing this to Eddie, I wrote a companion piece about a mortifying day for Evil Woman?

(It's on the way. Sorry, EW.)

I'm Gonna Love You Forever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets some upsetting news and has to hide out at Evil Woman's house for a little while… it's an angsty one, kids. Contains: Fear and nightmares, bed-wetting and blood, childhood trauma and abuse, comfort and reassurance, a declaration of love. Words: 3.7k

A thwap comes from your right.

You glance over and chuckle. Eddie is lying next to you on your bed, on his stomach, and his face is planted in the middle of the history textbook he's supposed to be reading.

"Are you absorbing the necessary information better that way?" you ask, turning your attention back to a battered classroom-issued paperback.

"No," he grunts. "Need a break."

"I understand. You've been reading for a whole," you check your watch, "three minutes."

He groans.

"Finish this chapter and we'll take a break."

He groans louder, head still in his book. And then the phone rings. His head pops up. "It's Wayne, he says I gotta come home right now, can't study any more."

"Shut up," you laugh, smacking his denim-clad ass with your book as you get up and go to answer the phone.

Your brother already has it. You stand in the hallway with your arms crossed, waiting for either a hand-off or a dismissal. He covers the mouthpiece with his hand.

"Eddie's uncle wants to talk to him," he says lowly. You nod, hold up a finger, and return to your room.

"You're in luck, Munson; it really is Wayne."

Instead of looking relieved, Eddie looks concerned. It's understandable; Wayne never calls here. Eddie scrambles out of bed and skids into the hallway on his socked feet.

You sit on the bed and open your book, but don't absorb a single word... because you can hear Eddie's side of the conversation.

"What? Why? No. No. I can't. I'll stay at Rick's or something. I'll let you know. Bye."

It's tense. It's rushed. Something is definitely wrong. You toss your book aside when he hurries back into your bedroom. He closes your door and leans against it, face even paler than usual.

"You okay?" you ask, knowing the answer.

His lip begins to tremble. His eyes start to well. You're off the bed and wrapping your arms are around him in an instant. He squeezes you and buries his face in your neck.

"What happened? Is Wayne okay?"

Eddie sounds like he's starting to hyperventilate, so you guide him toward the bed. You get him to sit, then kneel on the floor in front of him and hold his hands in yours. He's hunched over; his eyes are scrunched tight, his face looking a little green.

"Breathe, baby. It's gonna be okay. Just breathe."

He squeezes your hands until you begin losing feeling in your fingers, but you don't let go. You couldn't, even if you wanted to. Eventually, his breathing slows and he releases his death grip on your hands.

"My dad's out."

You've been dating Eddie Munson for more than six months, and he's barely mentioned his father. You never asked about his parents; you figured if he wanted you to know, he'd tell you. And he did, occasionally. You'd gathered that neither of them were the nurturing type. You knew they were alcoholics. You knew Eddie's mother died when he was 7, and that he came to live with Wayne when he was 8. Everything else was something of a mystery that you figured he'd reveal in time, when he was ready.

Eddie takes a shuddering breath and begins: "He was supposed to be doing 15 years. It's only been 12. He showed up at the trailer a little while ago. Wayne says he wants to see me." Tears fall when he shakes his head. "I can't."

"Baby, you don't have to," you tell him softly. He closes his eyes. "Eddie, you don't have to see him if you don't want to. You're a grown-up. He can't make you do anything." He covers his face with his hands, and you move upward to wrap your arms around him again.

"I don't want to go home," he whimpers.

"So stay with me."

"Yeah, I bet your mom would love that," he says sarcastically, pulling back and swiping at his eyes.

"She literally went to court to fight my dad when we said we didn't want to see him anymore. She'll understand."

"I don't know how long it'll be 'til he fucks off."

"That's okay."

"What if she says no?"

"She won't," you say confidently.

You don't know what his father did to him, or why he was locked up, or why Eddie is so scared, but you know one thing: if that old man comes near the boy you love, it'll be the last thing he ever does.

You move your books to the floor and lie down on the bed together. Eddie buries his face in your chest and lets you hold him tight. You lie there in silence, gently playing with his hair, until you hear your mom come home from work.

"Be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

When you return to your room, Eddie is curled into a ball on his side, hugging your pillow. He looks up at you with fearful, red-rimmed eyes. You ease back onto the bed, lying down to face him, and reach out to tuck his shaggy hair behind his ear.

"Mom talked to Wayne," you tell him quietly. "He thinks staying here for a few days is a good idea, too. Said he'd bring you some stuff on his way to work. Is that okay? Will you stay?"

"Do you really want me?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I do," you smile. You gaze into his big brown eyes and feel your heart swell. "I'd keep you with me all the time if I could." You kiss his the tip of his nose. "Oh, and Mom says she's making lasagna for dinner, in honor of getting our very own Garfield."

He snorts.

Eddie follows you into the kitchen when it's time for dinner like he usually does. He stays to eat with you several times a week anyway, so nothing feels at all out of the ordinary.

Until he nearly jumps out of his skin when someone knocks at the door. You place a hand on his leg under the table when your mom goes to answer it.

You both let out a quiet sigh of relief when you see Wayne step inside. He follows your mom into the kitchen, carrying a brown grocery bag and Eddie's Sweetheart.

"Can you spare a few minutes for dinner, Wayne?" your mom asks.

"No, ma'am, just came to drop off some stuff for the boy on my way to work."

Eddie gets up to take his things from his uncle.

"Talk to you outside for a minute?" Wayne asks.

"Yeah." Eddie sets his bag and other lover aside and follows Wayne outside. You stare at the door nervously while your mom packs a meal in Tupperware for Wayne to take with him.

When they return, Eddie looks shy, like a kid who's been coached on how to thank relatives for a gift he didn't really want. He takes his seat, and Wayne hovers in the doorway.

"Thank you again for takin' him in, ma'am. He gives you any trouble, you give me a call."

You smirk. Eddie blushes furiously and refuses to look in your direction.

Your mom laughs warmly. "Please. Eddie's never any trouble. We're always happy to have him." She hands the Tupperware container to Wayne. "Take this."

"Ma'am, I--"

"Take it." You're pleased to see that the Don't Argue With Me Voice works on grown-ups too.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Now Eddie's the one smirking, and Wayne's the one blushing.

"Alright," Wayne rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "I gotta get goin'. Thank you again, ma'am. Call if you need anything. And you?" Eddie looks up to see his uncle pointing at him. "Be good."

Eddie nods, and Wayne leaves with his Tupperware meal.

The rest of dinner passes uneventfully, and afterwards, you and Eddie pick up the Wayne-delivered goods and return to your room to pretend to finish your homework.

"Where can I…?" Eddie spins around in the middle of your room, looking for a safe place to stash Sweetheart.

"Anywhere you want," you smile, placing his bag of clothes in your desk chair and dropping onto the bed. "Mi casa es… Sweetheart's casa?"

He settles her in a corner, then comes to join you on the edge of the bed. He lets out a sigh that it seems like he's been holding for hours. You wrap an arm around his back and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He leans against you. "Wayne thinks he'll fuck off in a few days. Most of his old buddies are either dead or locked up. He's staying at the shitty motel by the laundromat. Wayne says he'll probably go back to my grandma's when he runs out of money."

"You have a grandma?" you ask.

Eddie waits a beat.

"That's what you got out of that?"

"You've never mentioned her."

He shrugs, making your head bob with his shoulder. "Didn't like my mom. Didn't like me. Don't know much about her."

"What's Wayne think about him being back?"

"Same thing I do. Wish he'd get hit by a fuckin' truck."

You're rubbing your hand up and down his back when a voice calls from the hall.

"I'm watching Dawn of the Dead, if you losers wanna quit sucking face long enough to enjoy some real entertainment."

You lift your head from Eddie's shoulder. "Wanna?"

"Does it mean I don't have to finish my history homework?" he asks hopefully.

"I was gonna skim the chapter and summarize for you anyway."

"Fuck yeah," he grins.

You head to the living room, get comfortable on the couch, and lose yourselves in zombieland for the next two hours. Not what you would've picked for a soothing distraction from a horrifying reality, but it seems to work for Eddie.

He seems calmer as you get ready for bed. You stand together at the bathroom sink to brush your teeth, letting the toothpaste dribble out of your mouths and growling like zombies at each other in the mirror.

This is, of course, when your mother walks by to say goodnight: When you've both got toothpaste dripping off your chins.

"I don't even want to know," she shakes her head, trying and failing to conceal her smile. "Everything's locked up, I'm going to bed." She doesn't usually announce that everything's locked up, but you appreciate her trying to pass it off as normal for Eddie's benefit.

"G'night," you both gurgle through your foam-filled mouths. She lightly smacks her own forehead with her palm and walks away laughing. You lean forward to spit and grin at each other in the mirror.

Once the lights are off and you're in bed, Eddie practically crawls on top of you. You hold him tight and stroke his hair, finding that one spot on his scalp that's been known to knock him out. It works. You hope his dreams are much happier than his reality as you begin to drift off to the sound of his steady breathing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck."

You open your eyes to a strange chant and suddenly remember that Eddie is supposed to be with you. You can't feel him. You roll out of bed and turn on the lamp. He's kneeling on the mattress, hair a mess.

"Turn around," he orders. "Don't look."

"Eddie, what's going on?"

"Turn around!"

You're in such a panic, you can't just turn your back on him. Your eyes drift from his frantic eyes to the wet spot he's trying to shield with his body. When your eyes meet his again, he crumbles.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," he cries.

"Babe, it's okay," you begin.

"I'm so fucking sorry, just let me get my shit and I'll go," he continues.

"Eddie, would you stop?"

"I wish I was fucking dead, I'm so fuc--"

"Eddie! Stop!" Your sharp tone scares him enough to make him stop rambling.

You step toward a corner of the bed and pull the sheet back to reveal what's underneath.

"Look. Mattress pad. Easy fix. By morning, we can pretend it never happened."

He looks from the white corner of the fabric to you, and then back again. His mouth opens and closes several times.

You lean against your dresser and speak softly, resisting the urge to close the distance and embarrass him further. "You're aware that I hemorrhage for a significant amount of time every month, right?"

He nods.

"Sometimes I bleed through. My last mattress looked like such a murder scene, Mom was afraid to transport it across state lines. It's not a big deal. I go through this all the time."

He sniffs.

"Why don't you go hop in the shower? Just put your clothes in the hamper, and I'll throw a load of laundry in."

He starts to protest.

"Nobody'll suspect a thing," you cut him off before he can even begin. "I go through this at least once a month. It's practically expected of me. Nobody'll know."

He looks downward, and you let him consider his options.

"Can you turn around?" he asks quietly.

"Yep."

You turn your back and hear him rustling through his paper bag, and then hear the door open and close. You strip the sheets - only the bottom sheet had any traces of his shame - and ball them up.

You weren't lying; this does happen occasionally. Perhaps not as often as you implied, but enough that nobody would raise an eyebrow at the washing machine going at 3 am. You clean the spot on the mattress pad, change the sheets, re-make the bed, and grab clean pajamas. You'll throw your current ones in with the load, to support your 'It Was Me' story, should anyone question it. (They won't, but it would probably make Eddie feel better.)

"Did any get on you?" He'd crept back into your room so quietly, you hadn't even noticed him. He's eyeing the fresh stack of pajamas you've placed on top of the dresser.

"Nope," you smile, turning around. "Figured we could do with a complete re-set. I'll be right back."

You grab the sheets in one hand and your pajamas in the other, and head to the bathroom to collect Eddie's clothes.

Four minutes later, you return to your room. Eddie is sitting on the floor, leaning against your dresser, his knees to his chest. You sit next to him, but not close enough to touch him. Not yet.

"Please don't beat yourself up over this," you beg. "It's not a big deal."

"Fucking embarrassing."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He doesn't respond. You stretch your legs out in front of you, cross your ankles, and get comfortable.

"You know I'm gonna marry you one of these days, right?"

Still nothing.

"What do you reckon our life expectancy is? I figure we've got what, maybe 50 years ahead of us? That's a lot of time."

You place your hand on the floor between you, palm up, to see if he'll take it. He doesn't.

"I'm gonna love you forever," you inform him. "Sickness, health, weird haircuts, awful tattoos, all that jazz. I will love you if you suddenly develop a fondness for Madonna or disco dancing. I'll even love you if you become that guy who brings an acoustic guitar to parties and expects everyone to sit around and listen to him. Actually, maybe not with that one. Please don't be that guy." You pause, hoping for a laugh. When it doesn't come, you clear your throat and continue. "Point is, there's almost nothing that could make me stop loving you. This, right here? Doesn't change a thing. I fucking love you. Get used to it."

He lets it sink in, and then he sighs. Finally, he reaches for your hand. Your fingers lace together. You look over at him, and he slowly meets your eye.

"I fucking love you too."

"You better, Munson," you wink.

He smiles a tiny smile.

"Ready to go back to bed?"

He hesitates and asks, "Can I go out and smoke first?"

"Baby, you're a refugee, not a prisoner. You don't have to ask permission to leave."

"Right," he groans, hauling himself off the floor. He holds out his hands to help you up, and you take them.

"Do you want company, or do you need a minute?" you ask once you're standing.

He shrugs, looking at the floor.

"Because that's okay," you smile, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face.

"What's okay?"

"Needing a minute," you explain. "I just announced my intention to lock you down forever. We're probably gonna occasionally need a minute to ourselves."

"You can come with me," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You follow him to the back door, put on your jackets and shove your feet into your shoes, and step out into the darkness. You sit next to each other on the porch steps, resting your head on his shoulder and huddling together for warmth as Eddie smokes in silence. It's pretty peaceful out tonight. The black sky is cloudless and dotted with stars. The air feels clean and crisp. Eddie's body provides just enough heat that you're not too bothered by the cold.

He seems calmer after he smokes his cigarette down to the butt, but he uses the tip to light another. It's going to be a long night. You press your fingers between your thighs, starting to feel the chill set in.

"You know the Speedway just this side of the county line?"

A run-down gas station with a cracked parking lot and a flickering neon sign comes to mind. Yeah. You know of it, but you've never been in. Gareth had suggested dropping in for snacks once when you passed by, but Eddie had said everything in there was overpriced and kept driving. You hadn't thought anything of it at the time; you and Eddie are 7-Eleven people, after all.

"Yeah," you whisper.

Eddie pauses so long, you wonder if he's reconsidering telling you whatever he was about to reveal.

"We were on a beer run," he says eventually. "Dad was already hammered. Ran over our mailbox and took out the neighbor's trash can on the way out. Swerved all over the road. I used to think it was fun, riding like that, but looking back I'm surprised nobody died." Eddie stops to take a long drag. "I stuck a pack of Sno-Balls under my shirt while Dad was paying for his beer. You know, those pink coconut cakes?" He glances at you for confirmation, and you nod. "The thought of those things makes me sick now. But when you're that hungry, they look fuckin' amazing. Anyway, the cashier spotted me and said something. Dad's face… I mean, it was already red from the drinking. But it looked like his head was going to explode. Eyes poppin' out of his head, vein throbbing in his neck. He grabbed me by the hair and just started whalin' on me, right there in the middle of the store. I heard people yelling, but I… I kinda just scrunched my eyes shut and waited for it to be over, like I always did. And then when I opened them again, Hop had the old man pinned to the floor."

Eddie sniffles and drags his sleeve across his face.

"I know you've never seen my dad, but he's not a big guy. Hopper could've fucking demolished him. But Hop had a busted lip. Blood just dripping out of his mouth and onto the old man. Sometimes I wonder… if maybe Hop let him get a swing in just 'cause he knew that's what it would take to finally put him away. And it did. He got 15 years for assaulting a cop."

A tear streaks down your cheek, and a smile tugs at your lips.

"Took three guys to haul Dad off. Still kicking and screaming. At me, at Hop, I dunno. But Hopper's the one who took me to Wayne's. Bought me a hot dog to eat on the way, and I think it might've been the best fucking thing I've ever eaten. Even with the sore jaw the old man gave me for getting caught. He always said to never trust a cop, but Hop… he's saved my ass more than once. I guess…" Eddie stubs out cigarette #2 and chuckles. "I guess if you have to leave me for somebody, Hop's a decent choice."

You knock your knee against his, lifting your head off his shoulder to look at him. His eyes are shiny and tear-filled in the moonlight. Is it a crime to think he's beautiful like this?

"What can I say?" you grin. "I've got great taste in men."

Eddie snorts, shakes his head, and stands. He offers you his hands, and you take them and let him help you off the steps. When you stand, he pulls you in for a hug.

"Thanks," he mumbles into your hair. "For tonight. For everything."

You feel like something needs to be said, but you can't find the right words. Instead, you hold him tight and kiss the side of his neck. He melts into you. You stand there, stuck together on your back porch, until a shiver rips through your body.

"Jeez, make us stand outside in the cold all night and get sick, why don't ya," Eddie grumbles, pulling away and putting his hands on your shoulders. He turns you around and pushes you toward the door. "Get inside where it's warm, you crazy woman. You've gotta take care of me for the next 50 years, you don't get to check out early."

You laugh quietly and let him push you inside. You silently shed your jackets and shoes and return to your bedroom, snuggling into your clean sheets and holding onto each other for warmth.

Four days later, Wayne stopped by to tell Eddie that his old man was back in jail where he belonged. Unable to resist the sight of the bar across the street from the shitty motel he was staying in, he'd wandered over, drank too much, and picked a fight with the guy on the stool next to him...

Who happened to be an off-duty Indiana State Trooper, visiting Hawkins to have a drink with an old friend named Jim Hopper.

[princescar]

DEAD OR ALIVE

[fishbloc]

Long overdue update for the Swaggon mod that I wanted to make but could never found the time or heart to. Please enjoy.

CHANGELOG: - fixed portrait to show scar instead of suki - fixed dialogue so scar actually says his dialogues now - removed additional festival dialogue bar one for each festival - added 20 new general dialogues to make up for removal

(mod link)

[angelmush]

magenta smoothie 4 breakfast, vibrant vase of tulips 4 my gf, black dragon dog 4 sharing the couch with, and a big stack of notebooks 4 writing

[nicohakobyan]

Merry christmas from the silliest couple in drdt (terunico duh)!! ✨🎄♥️

[starqueensthings]

Still processing the Tech stuff, but this tidbit won’t leave my brain so I have to post it.

Echo doesn’t enjoy solitude. Yet here is he is, choosing to be alone so he can grieve yet another fallen brother. I’m sick.

[accirax]

with many people speculating that the identity of the culprit will finally come to light next episode and many theories running abound, i'd like to make a masterlist of all of the theories people have written out guessing who the culprit will be. that includes the main murder of Arei, the attempt on Ace, and any theories synthesizing the two. i think it would be fun to read up on before the episode, and fun to look back at once all is said and done :D

so, if you've made a theory speculating about the murder, please leave a comment on this post (preferably with a link to the theory)! i'll only be adding the theories of those who comment on the post, just so that i don't accidentally make anyone feel excluded/highlight someone's post that doesn't want to be shouted out.

all i ask is that you only submit whatever the most current version of your theory per character/combination of characters. for instance, if you wrote a theory based on the evidence from part 1, but wrote a new version taking into account what happened in episode 12 or 13, i'm only going to add the newer one. if you only have a version from part 1, though, that's fine!

(also, for all theoretical theorists out there, a reminder that i made an episode guide that breaks down all the episodes into easier-to-find sections. i just updated it for 2-13!)

[penancepropulsionn]

i can't be the only one who is thoroughly baffled more than upset whenever anyone still refers to nico with he/him. like HOW. it's RIGHT THERE. IT LITERALLY FUCKING HAPPENED IN THE STORY. EXPLICITLY STATED NICO USES THEY/THEM PRONOUNS

like i don't even think it makes me mad i'm just... astonished

because the only reason anyone could disregard it is if they're trans/nb-phobic (which is its own can of worms) or actually illiterate. not even "media illiterate" You Just Can't Fucking Read

[vexedmilky]

I'm just posting this because I want to understand ships better but what is your guys favorite ship and why?

(There will be no judgment unless it's actually illegal :3)

[wheels-of-despair]

Imagine my surprise when I wake up from an Eric dream to discover that someone has started reading my Eric series. 😂

Under Pressure | Eric x You vs. The Apocalypse | Series Masterlist

Chapter One: Through Gritted Teeth Summary: Once upon a time, in a miserable Midtown restaurant... you felt the need to rescue the brother-in-law you'd only just met. Words: 1.8k

Matricide. Patricide. What's the word for when you murder your father-in-law?

Justified. You're going to call it justified.

Two days ago, your nemesis - also known as Albert, the old Englishman that your husband calls Dad through gritted teeth - announced a stateside visit. Your other half immediately went into Panic Mode, scrubbing the apartment from top to bottom, even though he knows that his father would never stoop so low as to set foot in there. He went in for a haircut this morning. He had a meltdown because he couldn't find his favorite tie this afternoon. It's going to take you months to undo this hour-long visit.

Because this time, you've realized that your father-in-law can treat someone worse than he treats your husband.

"I'll be in New York for a day. You should let me tear you down over dinner. Also, your little brother has been living 10 minutes away from you for a month, and neither of us thought to mention it until now. He'll be joining us, probably against his will. Pip-pip, cheerio, and Bob's your uncle!"

That's how you imagine the phone call happened, anyway.

Fast-forward to a miserable dinner in a ritzy Midtown restaurant where you serve as buffer between a haughty father and his two disappointing sons. One, a doctor with an office wall full of framed accomplishments and a nice apartment and a wife who's not so bad, if you do say so yourself. The other, a law student who's sure to do great things. After all, he did get into one of the country's top law schools, didn't he? They're smart, they're motivated, and they're both reduced to anxious little boys in that old bastard's presence.

You've seen Eric standing awkwardly in old family photos, where everyone's in pressed suits and wearing their best fake smiles, but you've never actually met him before. He looks a little like your husband, you suppose. Especially with panic in his eyes and a hint of sweat on his forehead. Eric is the youngest of six. Evan, the one you landed, is son number five. The first four had been big, strapping rugby players in school; one even went pro. They sought fame and fortune, becoming workaholics and alcoholics and bringing home trophy wives and a slew of entitled grandchildren. It was a lot to live up to. No matter what the youngest two did, they always seemed to fall short of their father's expectations.

"So Eric, how are you liking school so far?" you ask, after counting out sixty seconds of tense silence. The boy pleads with his big brown eyes, and you feel awful for thrusting him into the spotlight. In your defense, the first half-hour of sitting at this table had involved your husband listing every miracle he'd performed in the hospital during the last year. His father remained unimpressed. You figured it was time to switch gears. Share the load. Spread the misery.

"S'alright, I guess," he says quietly, giving you a sad attempt at a smile. You appreciate the effort anyway.

"It had better be more than alright," the old man scoffs for the umpteenth time tonight, "with what I had to pay to get him in. Evan, his grades made yours look impressive."

Evan smiles politely in acknowledgement of the back-handed compliment. Eric squirms in his seat, looking like he'd love for a sinkhole to open up and swallow him whole. You've seen your husband react the same way. What is this power the old man has over these poor boys, and how can you take it away from him?

"You're just getting started," you smile, ignoring the old man. "You'll settle in and find your groove, and everything will fall into place. Just give it time."

Eric puts a little more effort into this smile.

Albert's cell phone rings, and he answers it at the table. Rude, yes. But his sons are as grateful for the distraction as he is. The three of you eat quietly while the old man prattles on about something you don't care about, and it's the most relaxing part of this stressful evening. A waiter stops to drop off dessert menus as the old man ends his call.

"Do you think you've earned dessert?" he asks pointedly. Both of his sons put down their menus. If you weren't so eager to get the hell out of here, you'd order something massive, so you'd have to enlist the boys' help in eating it. But you drop your menu as well, because you're ready to go home and start building your husband's self-esteem back up. And possibly dig into a pint of ice cream.

"Let me just get the check," your father-in-law insists, waving for the waiter.

"No, Dad, let me," Evan argues, reaching for his wallet.

You hate the Let Me Pay Dance. It's the same every time. If the old man gets to the check first, the husband feels like a child who can't provide for himself. If the husband does, the old man accuses him of being a show-off. There is no winner here.

"If you insist," Albert says. Everyone freezes. You've been watching them play this game for years, and this has never happened before. "At least I have one son who offered."

Eric's face burns scarlet. This poor fucking kid. You glance at Evan, who meets your eye in surprise. He grapples with his wallet and gets his credit card out as the waiter approaches. Albert stares down his nose at Eric, who looks like he's seconds away from crying.

"Is it hot in here?" you ask, fanning yourself. Three pairs of eyes land on you.

"Are you alright?" Evan asks. You shoot him a look that you hope he understands.

"I think I need some fresh air. Eric, would you walk me outside?"

Eric stands without a word and helps you out of your chair. He even thinks to grab your purse. You pretend not to notice how he fumbles and nearly drops it.

"Take your time," you smile, touching Evan's shoulder as you walk away. You wish you didn't feel like such a traitor for leaving your husband alone with his father, but you have to get this kid out of there before he gives the old man more ammo.

Eric guides you through the labyrinth of tables, and by the time you reach the door, you're genuinely happy to be out of the crowded restaurant. You sit on the steps, off to the side so you're out of the way. The summer has just turned to autumn, and the cool breeze feels wonderful after months of stifling heat.

Eric takes off his brown suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders anyway.

"Thank you," you whisper. He nods his head in acknowledgement, then sits next to you on the steps. You stare out at the traffic together in silence for a moment.

"Are you alright?" he asks quietly.

"I'm fine," you answer. "Are you?"

He looks at you blankly.

"Dinner with your father is always an experience," you wink. Eric stares down at the concrete in front of him, probably afraid to respond. "What do you think of the city?" you ask, hoping to get his mind off of the evening he's just suffered through.

"It's… different," he says. "Different than I thought it would be."

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

Eric shrugs, picking at a piece of fuzz on his pants. He looks so dejected, it makes your heart ache. At least Evan has someone to pick up the pieces and put him back together after his father rips him to shreds. Who does Eric have?

You glance back toward the door. They'll probably come out soon. You reach into your purse and extract a notepad, scribble some necessary information on it, and rip out the page. You hold it out to Eric, who stares at it for a second before taking it.

"Our numbers and address," you clarify. "If you ever need anything, just let us know."

"Thank you," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the paper.

"I mean it," you smile. "I know what it's like to feel alone in a strange city. If you ever need anything at all, we'll be there."

"Thank you," he says again, looking at you with watery eyes. Did you overstep? Did you make it weird?

"Feeling better?" Evan calls, holding the door for his father. Eric blinks back his tears and stands with his back to them.

"Much," you answer. Eric reaches down to help you up, standing on the step below to make sure you don't fall. What a gentleman. You return his jacket, give his shoulder a light squeeze as thanks, then walk to your husband. Eric slowly follows.

"Well, it's been great catching up, but I have a few things to take care of before my return flight," your father-in-law says, glancing at his watch. He shakes Evan's hand, gives you a nod, and Eric a pointed stare. And then he whirls around and disappears into the night.

"Nobody touch me, if I'm subjected to any more affection tonight, I may not survive," you deadpan.

Two mouths quirk into very similar smirks.

"I should get going, too," Eric mumbles. "It was nice to meet you," he says to you, followed by a "Thank you for dinner" to Evan.

"You're welcome," Evan says politely. "Take care."

"You too." Eric gives you a nod, appears to hesitate briefly, then turns. You look from one brother to the other and roll your eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you groan, grabbing the back of Eric's suit jacket. He freezes, then looks back at you in surprise. "C'mere," you order, pulling him in for a hug. It's tense for a second, but he doesn't protest. You feel him relax, and maybe even chuckle? When you release him, he has a shy smile on his face.

"You take care of yourself," you order, hands on his shoulders. " And call us if you need anything. Okay?"

"Okay," he grins.

"Now you may go," you inform him. Still grinning, he gives you an awkward wave and turns to leave again. This time, you let him. You wait 'til he rounds the corner, then look to your husband. You can't quite decode the expression on his face. Amusement? Curiosity? You decide to tackle it with humor.

"Dear Diary," you tease. "Tonight, my father finally let me pay for dinner. It was the best day of my life!"

"Shut up," he laughs, putting an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward home.

[bedlamsbard]

for love of god I wish I hadn't trained my brain into generating sequel ideas.

[astteriskk]

Monthly Check Up!!

How’s everyone doing? First check up since DRDT has returned, so I’m sure everyone is doing much better lol. Personally, I’m having a strangely good week. Tell me how you’re feeling in the comments!!

Also, I discovered that my new favorite thing is blurry bugs with names. Found this gem.

[tiny-xander-adventures]

put him in a terrarium like a really cool lizard... so i can put my face up to it and fog the glass staring at this little silly...

well, he’s in a terrarium now, but it looks a little empty! what do y’all think we should put in there with him?

[jumioxox]

teruvid week day one - secret

[abr-giggy]

hmmmm...

hear me out...