#eddie: HOW WOULD YOU EVEN KNOW

[saucerfulofsins]

I think I may need to actually write a coffee metaphor fic, and also, I am CRYING

[plistommy]

Omega Steve who has never been knotted before.

He has only ever dated betas before, not really caring for alphas and they couldn’t give him that feeling of pure fullness.

But then, he meets Eddie. An alpha who’s too loud for his own good, but still surprisingly sweet and kind to Steve like no other alpha has been. And Steve?

He falls hard for the older boy and it doesn’t take long for him to start feeling slick dripping down his hole every time he even sees a glimpse of the alpha.

Steve knows Eddie smells it on him, how could he not, but the alpha doesn’t do anything.

He waits until Steve’s the first one to make the move, to kiss Eddie with so much hunger that Eddie finally lets his alpha instincts take over. He knots Steve for the first time ever and it makes the omega cry under him as he begs for the alpha to breed him.

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[tidesreach]

the reason they had to have tommy leave the bachelor party in 7x06 is because honestly one of two things would have happened there 1) eddie would have had to witness buck kissing a man and paying attention to a man who is Not Him and would have been passive aggressive deranged for reasons he can’t explain in the middle of that karaoke bar. he'd be up on that karaoke machine singing something like the killers mr. brightside it would have been a mess. and buck would be CLUELESS to it all like hey tommy. look at my bestie SING. isn't he so great? meanwhile tommy's there in his henley like 🧍‍♂️OR 2) it would have been the Exact Same as in the show with buck and eddie hanging off each other being insane. except meanwhile tommy's there in his henley like 🧍‍♂️

[fisheito]

rereading the nuca pink doujin and seeing yakumo tear himself apart re: his snake form vs his human form all this agony and self-doubt and silent suffering and fear of rejection like "if i looked less human would u hate me" , "if u saw me in my true form wouldn't that be horrible. terrifying. disgusting" , "if i admitted i want to swallow you whole would you think worse of me"

and i imagine him asking something like this to the crowd of clan members , who are , undeniably,, a group of Kinky Fuckers

they all smile with the serenity and carefully masked excitement of a horny olivine. masterful beautiful reassuring expressions (errr..... masked to different degrees depending on the clan member)

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 6

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Even though he's expecting company, Eddie still jumps and yelps when his front door flies open without so much as a knock, revealing Dustin and Will.

"I know I said to let yourselves in, but a warning knock would have been nice," Eddie shoots them a glare, not bothering to stand from the couch where he'd been pretending to watch whatever terrible daytime movie was playing.

"Sorry," Will apologizes sheepishly while Dustin just laughs.

"Which of your moms dropped you off? If it's Claudia, I'm filing a complaint about how you were raised."

"Har har," Dustin says, swinging his backpack off and knelling down to unzip and dig into it. "We biked here."

"Lucky you, then. The complaint will wait."

Dustin wrestles a blanket from his backpack. Unwrapping it reveals Steve, hair rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Alright. Delivered safely. We gotta go meet El and Mike now but we'll see you on Saturday, right?"

Eddie sets Steve on the couch, angled towards the TV. "Yeah. I get the feeling if I don't show for the barbeque that Joyce will show up here and drag me there by my ear."

"She would," Will confirms with an easy shrug. The boys turn to leave before Will exclaims, "Oh! Almost forgot!" before digging into his pocket for something, turning around to give it to Eddie.

"What?"

"El and Steve spoke again. He had a lot of things to say. I spent a good portion of the last three days writing down everything as El repeated it to me. This is your letter," he says, having successfully pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Oh," Eddie takes it, and realizes it's not just one folded piece of paper, but three. "Wow."

"Seems you are Steve's second favorite," Dustin grins at him from the doorway.

"You are first, I assume?"

"No. Robin is. She got five pages."

That tracks, actually. Eddie's not surprised Robin got the most pages.

Soon enough, the boys are off and Eddie returns to the couch, pulling his legs up to sit crisscross. "Alright, Stevie, let's see what you have to say."

He unfolds the pages completely and is met with Will's now familiar penmanship scrawled across the sheets of wide rule paper that has clearly been ripped from a composition notebook. He's seen Will's handwriting plenty over this last year, quickly scribbling notes during DnD sessions and on the little item cards Will makes himself to hand out when he DMs.

Will's handwriting isn't always the neatest, but this looks like Will took time, wanted his writing to be legible. Flipping through the papers he sees it is two pages, front and back, of a letter, and the third page is a list of questions in a different, neater handwriting. He gets the feeling that Will probably didn't paraphrase anything. How many people got letters? How much of Will and El's time was devoted to doing just this?

Eddie feels emotional over this, misty-eyed and a lump in his throat, and he hasn't even read the damn letter yet.

"Shit, Stevie, do you even realize how loved you are?" Eddie asks out loud, turning to look at Porcelain Steve like he might answer him this time. Blank hazel eyes stare forward. Eddie shakes his head, to clear away his thoughts, and gets to reading. Not out loud, because he doesn't want Steve to hear how wet his voice will sound.

Eddie,

I guess the first thing I want to say is thank you. I was kind of freaking out when I first woke up like this. It was calming, that day on the lawn, after Robin and Nancy found me. You were so chill and just chatted my ear off like you would have if I were, like, there. I mean, there there and not like, doll-there, if you get what I mean.

Shit, man, being stuck like this would have been a hell of a lot worse without you, I'm certain. Everyone's been great, of course, and, like, no offense meant, Will and El, but you act most normal. Helps me feel, well, I don't know how, exactly. Describing emotions is not something I'm like, good at. Robin's great, too, but she catastrophizes, you know? And since I can't speak back, she can get herself pretty worked up about this and I hate that. Hate that I can't do anything to help her.

Shit. This isn't your issue. Don't include that. No, wait, do. Sorry, El. (It is here, off in the margin, that Will has added 'I wrote everything word for word. Enjoy the asides to El and me.) Hanging out with you helps her, I think. She seems less anxious on days we spend with you. So, I guess, I also want to thank you for that. For being there for Robin when I can't.

Eddie has to pause there because he had no idea. Robin has been a grounding force for him this whole time. He had no idea he was doing the same for her. She never said, or let on... well, that was probably her goal and now Steve's spilled the beans.

This is getting easier to say, even if I still don't know how to feel about the other two people who are going to be privy to everything said, or I guess from your end, written here. (Here, Will has transcribed a conversation they seemed to have had in the middle of writing this up.) Oh. He means us. - El Yes. Don't worry Steve, we'll do our best to forget everything you've said once it's written down. - Will Steve laughed and says thanks. - El I appreciate that but- well, being honest there's some things I want to say but I don't want anyone else to hear. Those conversations are better left face to face, anyway. So, uhh, what else did I want to say?

Oh! Yeah, I told Robin she could drive around the Bimmer, so she can have a car while I'm- so she doesn't have to bike everywhere but knowing her she probably won't take me up on that offer. Maybe you can talk her into it? Or, maybe she'll be willing to drive your van around and you can take the bimmer.

"Jesus, Stevie, can't you just be okay with existing?" Eddie says it under his breath and tenses instantly. For a moment, he forgot that Steve was right there on the couch with him, could hear him. Now he has to explain himself because Steve's already heard, and without the context of how Eddie really means those words, they can sound judgmental. "Shit. Sorry. I just read the part about your car and, dude, you just don't know how to not try and be helpful, huh? I bet it's destroying you on the inside that you can't do anything. But Steve, you gotta know, we don't care about you because you're useful."

Steve, of course, can't reply, so Eddie goes back to the letter.

Uh, what else was there? Oh! Yeah! I don't get migraines here. Or, in this body? Or, whatever it is. I haven't had one since this happened. Also, no hearing issues. Though I find myself wishing to be completely deaf sometimes. I get that Max can listen to Kate Bush for a week straight, but I'd like a little variety. God, what I wouldn't give to listen to the Top 40 again. Don't say anything, Munson. I can already see your judgmental face at my music taste. Unlike you, I have the ability to like multiple types of music. The Top 40 AND that one song from, uhh, shit. Might not have migraines or hearing issues at the moment, but the memory is still as it was. Which means it is shit. That one song by that metal band where their name sounds like it's metal? You know who I mean. (In the margin, Will has just written five little question marks in a row ?????)

"The band you were thinking of, it's Metallica," Eddie says.

Not important. But, uh, the reason for telling you this. I was hoping you might smuggle me to a show the next time your band plays at the Hideout? Last time I tried to go it was too loud and gave me a migraine, you remember, but I think that I could listen to your whole show like this. We might as well take advantage of the perks of this shit situation, right? So, uh, I wouldn't mind if you did that. Or, like, had Robin or someone else bring me. Whichever.

Actually, wait, I lied, I do care which way. I've already had them pen down Robin's letter, so you'll have to pass this on, but I want Robin to take me. So, I can also watch the show, not just listen. That was the part I liked most, when I went last time, before I had to leave. Wait. Scratch that. Ask Argyle. Other than you, he seems like the only person willing to be caught holding me in public, mostly because I don't think he even knows how to be embarrassed. Jesus that was such a weird sentence to say. Holding me in public. Such a weird thing to experience, too.

Uh, anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for everything, Eddie.

"I think you're handling this loss of bodily autonomy rather well, Steve. This letter is a lot more positive than the one I would have written if our roles were reversed," Eddie says with a sigh. He can't help but wonder what Steve would have said in this letter if it hadn't had to be filtered through two teenagers first.

He looks to the last page, the list of questions, and is surprised to see that, mixed in with questions about which sports team is winning (he is not going to watch Sportsball for Steve. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it. He will ask Wayne about it later and hate the glee he sees in his uncle's eyes because now he's going to have to pretend to like sports for the unforeseeable future) and for honest updates about their friends are questions about Eddie's campaign that he's rambled on about since Steve can't escape. Steve wants spoilers, wants to know what Eddie has planned.

Steve has actually been listening. He'd been operating on the assumption Steve just tunes him out when he gets going, unable to stop his brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his current campaign.

"I'm at your list of questions now. I can't answer anything about sports, and don't think I'm unaware of how you asked me and not Lucas. I see what you are doing and I'm not going to fall for it. So, your first non-sportsball question here; How is Dustin doing, really? Well, that's a whole thing but overall, okay."

[buddiesmutslut]

👶👶👶👶👶

we need more pipe baby fics in this fandom I'm BEGGING

HELLO beautiful person, I'm so glad you asked for more of this story!! I'm so attached to itty bitty Pipe Baby, I love her so much and I'm SO excited about this fic, so have some more!! 15 sentences (I think, I'm not great at math lol) & again, the details are all subject to change (I've already re-written this once, so who knows what it will look like by the time I'm done lol) but you get the general idea of what I'm going for. I hope you like it!

“Eddie, hi! It’s Sarah, Alec’s mom?” She starts, like she’s not sure he remembers her or not. She sounds frazzled, which Eddie tries not to worry more about. 

“Yeah, Sarah, hi. Uhm, is everything alright?” He asks, not wanting to be rude but curious to the point of her call. 

“Yes, yeah, everything is fine! I just- I hate to do this to you, but I need a favor. Is there anyway you can pick Alec up from school today and watch him for a little bit? My husband was supposed to do it, but he got called into a last minute, emergency surgery and I’m currently out of the state for a training thing, and our normal babysitter is busy, and my mom is sick and-” 

He cuts her off, relief settling over him that it’s not something serious. “Sarah, yes, Alec can absolutely hang out with us until your husband can pick him up, I’m sure he and Chris will both be thrilled,” he agrees instantly. This is an easy problem to solve, but he knows how hard it is to ask for help, remembers the shame of admitting that he couldn’t handle something on his own. He’s gotten better though, but only after years of therapy and damn near blowing his life up.

“Thank you so much, Eddie, you’re a life saver! Willow’s going to go with him, hang out in the hospital while he does the surgery. Probably not the most fun place for a 7-year-old, but God knows the nurses and everyone know her well enough, there’s just no way he could get Alec and across town in time for the surgery.”

He knows she’s just rambling now, thinking out loud as a way to try and keep everything straight, but he can’t imagine wanting to spend his free time in a hospital at 7, especially when the one person he knows is going to be busy. 

Maybe he’s a glutton for punishment, but he can’t stop himself from asking the question. “Who’s Willow?” 

[tommygotwrittenoff]

confession time!!! can't wait for bt bones

[wenellyb]

I would interested in knowing what people mean when they say a character is a "plot device"?

Aren't all characters "plot devices"? Is it possible that those people mean "supporting character" but use plot device because it's more derogatory for characters they don't like?

[bisexualbuckl-y]

i can't stop thinking about buck's future reaction to this new eddie storyline in like a best friend way, because i don't know how aware buck is of how much eddie is struggling with his mental health lol, like how long ago was the last time they spoke about shannon in relation to eddie? does buck think eddie is over her death? or maybe not over but at least he's come to terms with it? i feel like we'll see eddie trying to hide this thing with kim and buck will surely know something's going on but i don't think he'll ever imagine something close to what's happening, and then aside from the lying and bad feelings surrounding the situation he'll also feel awful because he just didn't know how this was still an issue eddie was having... yk?

[faytelumos]

Twilight AU where Edward never truly came back from hunting humans and Bella ends up being Jasper and Alice's third. But things get scary.

Edward becomes something of a PI and is taking in just enough cases these days to fund his travels as he clears cities out in rotation of murderers and rapists and the like. He calls once a month to keep in contact with the family.

Bella is curious of the Cullens the way everyone is and nobody notices her until Alice sees Bella getting squished by a van and blowing the Cullens' cover in the middle of a crowded parking lot. So Alice conveniently times physically running into Bella, spilling their books, and Bella's able to watch in outrage (and shock) as Tyler crashes into her truck.

The conversation they had for one minute twenty seconds was enough for Alice to see that she loves this girl and can't let her go. Jasper feels the love and joy Alice feels for this human girl and he's willing to follow her into fire to chase that feeling, to make Alice happy.

It is hard. Bella ends up finding out they're vampires. Jasper worries this isn't worth it, like he's living on a knife's edge. Alice obsesses over the way Bella's future keeps suddenly ending.

Edward calls and tells them he plans on visiting. Alice tells him no, no way, do not come within a hundred miles of this place, she has a human girlfriend and this interaction always ends badly. Edward is deeply offended. He has very good control, and he has never in a hundred years taken a truly innocent life. Alice is so mad when he says he's coming anyway and hangs up.

Alice, Jasper, and Bella get ready for a road trip. They need to beat Edward out of town, but Alice still sees everything ending so badly. Even when they're away, even when they're clear of Washington and Edward hasn't even landed in Seattle yet. Because Bella's scent is all over the house. Because Edward's a PI, and he knows the kinds of invisible little paper trails his family leaves behind when they move. He's coming for Bella, hunting her down, more focused and driven than he's ever felt in his unlife, and nothing Alice or Jasper are going to do will hold him off forever. Jasper doesn't want to kill his brother. Edward always hates himself after he kills Bella. Alice kills Edward in at least 4% of their futures. Bella's rate of survival past three years is a flat 0.

There is no other option. All three of them are in agreement. Bella has to become a vampire. And Alice has to be the one to do it.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Wait but how am I only now just connecting the dots that the way Buck acted about Tommy in season 7 episode 4 is exactly how Buck acted about Eddie back in season 2 episode 1 like OF COURSE he had a crush on Eddie and he just NEVER realized it.

[alliaskisthepossibilityoflove]

I really wonder (and I hope the show SHOWS IT) how it's going to go for Chris in Texas. Because Helena got her wish, she has her do-over, but how is she gonna do?

Will they give Chris the support and space he needs, be it therapy or just room to breathe and sit with it and let him talk to them and hear him out - or will it be straws in plastic cups and endless little jabs against Eddie/Shannon/LA/Buck/Carla....? What are they going to do about school and Chris's physical therapies?

Because Ramon may have had his come-to-Jesus moment with Eddie (though I'm side-eyeing him so hard after this) but Helena didn't, at all, and I feel/fear/know she will take this as a confirmation she has been right all alone and double down.

And like, obviously FOR CHRIS we must hope this is a good thing he's chosen - but for me as a viewer and Helena hater? I kinda hope he hates it there, that he gets to see and experience what exactly drove his dad to take them to the other side of the country, that he appreciates the way Eddie parents him and accepts him AND RESPECTS him and supports him so much more.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[isnt-that-wizardd]

"Chris calls Helena and Ramon" this and "Eddie realizes he needs his parents' help and calls them" that

MAYBE the joke's on us and they go full fanfic mode and it's actually that NO ONE called them, they just randomly showed up with no notice at the least opportune moment and now Eddie has to try and manage the situation with Christopher while also dealing with his parents getting involved!!

[psychotic-nonsense]

Alright folks, I have a question for you. A dumb question, yes, but a question nonetheless.

In an alternate universe scenario - where such a situation arises, and no one ends up dying or seriously (physically) wounded - with the S4 Hawkins Party and Chrissy all bearing witness...

(Context below)

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This is part of one of the oldest Stranger Things AU ideas I have.

Vecna, in a desperate attempt to distract/manipulate the town, decides to bring back every single person in Hawkins he's ever killed. Didn't matter the way, if the Upside Down killed them, they were back.

But they aren't exactly themselves. Their memories are locked away in their brains by those Upside Down slugs, all of them trapped in the same day as the dimension itself; November 6, 1983 (unless killed before this date). Alongside that, their bodies aren't theirs, and are instead exact replicas made purely of Upside Down goo. Vecna plans to gain the town's trust using them, and when the time comes, activate the slugs to turn the revived into his personal soldiers (think the season 3 Billy plot but without the flesh Mind Flayer)

Eddie wakes up in the forest, exactly how he is supposed to be. But when he discoveres Chrissy beside him, he panics, and tries to remember what happened. He's unable to, but he knows something is keeping the truth locked away. So, extremely painfully, he finds a way to extract the slug from his brain, freeing himself and his memories from Vecna's control.

But soon, Chrissy wakes up. One who's mind is stuck in 1983 and has no idea who Eddie is. Still, since they're all each other has, she decides to believe and trust him, eventually befriending Eddie all over again.

They spend their days walking through the woods, terrified to return to town. They need no food, and scrapes from the woods never go further than skin deep, yet they remain unaware of their undead status. Eddie spends the whole time theorizing, trying to figure out what purpose this could serve, and how to get back to the group without inciting mass panic.

That is until the group finds them. Everyone he fought alongside, traveling through the woods with Wayne Munson in tow. They're taking him to a hidden grave for Eddie, one far from the vandals in town, to give him a place to grieve in peace. They still can't tell him the truth of what happened, but hope that this makes up for the lies they keep spinning.

But Wayne's gone mad with his grief. He's brought a gun with him and points it at the group, demanding answers for what happened to his boy. Eddie watches in fear, urged away from intervening by Chrissy's own terror.

Just before things get too bad, Steve steps up. Takes the blame, says that it was his word that put Eddie in danger, and inevitably got him killed. The group tries to deny it, but Steve persists. Wayne needs someone to blame, so blame him.

And at first Wayne looks satisfied. He has an answer, finally, one that might actually be sincere considering Harrington's sobs as he confesses.

But his grief and pain and confusion and anger simply aren't. So he raises the gun, pointed right at Steve-

-and that's where Eddie intervenes. Shoving Steve out of the way, barely getting out a desperate "WAYNE, DON'T!!" ...before the gun goes off.

------------

After that, the story could go two ways.

The original outline - El goes with the group to Eddie's grave (for reasons I'm not sure of honestly). She watches the whole skirmish with Wayne, not wanting to expose him to her powers until she has to. When Wayne goes to shoot, she redirects his arm, just in time to catch Eddie in the leg.

In this one, Eddie's vocal. A screech of fear before he crumbles to one knee, hunched over and clutching at his leg, groaning in pain. Everyone can see him, hear him, and though they can't believe it, they know for sure it's Eddie. They saw him fall but they don't know how bad it is, and they're too shocked to come any closer.

The changed idea - El isn't there. Everything proceeds as before, with Wayne actually aiming for Steve's shoulder. Just a flesh wound, something to satisfy the squirming in his limbs. But due to Eddie's shove, his position is a little further to the left than Steve's, catching him straight in the heart.

In this one, Eddie drops, hard, with barely a sound. Everyone sees his side recoil with the impact, so they know exactly where he was hit. He lands on his front, the wind effectively knocked out of him, so he's gasping for air the whole way. Everyone sees his clothes, heard his voice, but they're almost hoping it's someone else, please don't let it be Eddie, please.

---------

No matter where Eddie gets shot, the story progresses the same.

Chrissy freaks out, running to Eddie and trying to help him, begging him to stay alive. Eventually he regains his bearings, slowly sitting up, hissing between gasping breaths with a hand clenched firmly over the wound. He slowly peels back his hand, terrified of what he'll see.

But beneath the hole in his clothes is... nothing. No blood, no bullet, no cuts. Just a steadily growing dark bruise, and the pain not progressing past an appropriate ache and some mild burning.

As he tries to process this, Eddie's eyes unfocus, and catch a slight glint of metal in the grass. With shaking hands, he grabs it. When he sees it, he hastily tries to stand, Chrissy rushing to help him. As they do, they turn just enough for everyone - from Wayne's trembling unmoving stance, to the group's collective huddle of fear, to Steve's laid out position on the dirt - to see what Eddie found.

The bullet. Or at least, what's left of it, its entire front bent flat.

Crushed upon impact with Eddie's skin.