#fuck old man steve

[vintage-tigre]

[godsworstson]

the jackass guys want to bang brad pitt (literally no one is surprised)

[fr00tbats]

posted all these muppets i drew the other day and i FEAR THAT IF I SAY THE COMMONALITY BETWEEN THEM ALL EVERYONE WILL GET THEIR KNIVES OUT ON ME AGAIN LMFAO

[vomelets]

banners from jackassworld.com (2008)

[wanderingmind867]

Poor Nighthawk. His company's chief executive has been secretly running the sons of the serpent this whole time! I guess this is what happens when nighthawk was so bored by business that he let other people do it unsupervised, but it's also sad and super sympathetic! I bet batman never has a story as interesting as this! (Defenders #25):

[queen-of-obsessing]

say whatever you want about merlin and its bad writing but at least they didn’t make a teenager commit suicide for shock value

[husband-steve-cortez]

I hate being one of those "oh my ocs have a mind of their own" people but it's true and it's so sad how much I want to fuck that old man but none of my muses will play ball. Also sucks that I'm a guy who only cares about his ocs.

[pussymasterdooku]

.

[narke]

he was really chatty yesterday. and very much on his banter game even tho i was very low energy. and he demoed a shotgun armbar on me and told me i was awesome. and he was changing his gi on the side of the mat and i was very tempted to look at his shoulder waist ratio in his tight little shirt but i had to focus on spider guard sweeps

[navybrat817]

Lovelies, I'm exhausted and in a mood. Indulge with me, if you will.

Warnings: Steve Rogers, explicit sexual content, dry humping, grinding

banner by the talented @cafekitsune

We all know Steve Rogers can fuck for hours, right? Peak condition and all, but can we talk about the flip side and how sensitive he is some days? Just hard for absolutely no reason and he feels like he'll blow his load if you even look in his direction?

So, naturally, you decide to be a little bratty when you see him on the couch trying to hide the massive hard-on he’s sporting. And why wouldn't you play a little? The thought of the commanding, blonde, sculpted super soldier about to burst because of you is just too hot to ignore.

“Aww. Poor Steve. Hard in your pants just because I walked into the room,” you tease as you straddle him, the outline of his cock making you shiver. He's strong enough to push you away, but doesn't. So you take it as an invitation to shove your hips down in a slow, dirty grind. “Let me take care of that for you.”

He grunts, his pretty blue eyes fluttering as you roll your hips. You arch your back when he grips them hard enough that you can feel it in your bones. Other than that, he doesn't move. In fact, he hardly breathes. Because he doesn't want to lose it so quickly.

“Keep doing that and I'll come in my pants,” he grits.

And that makes you double your efforts.

You tug at his hair, biting at his soft lower lip. His eyes are hazy, his breathing heavy. “All the panties you've made me ruin. Only fair I return the favor just this once.” You smirk when his head falls back. “Can you smell how wet I am? Bet you wish you were fucking me. Too bad. You owe me an orgasm first.”

“Sweetheart.” He warns, his voice a bit hoarse, his cheeks flushed. He's beautiful. He’s yours.

“It's okay. You can come. I want you to. Make a mess for me.” Your lips move to his ear to breathe out, “Captain.”

Steve moans your name when you shove your hips down once more and he finally moves. His body shudders and you can't help but smile when you feel the wet patch through the fabric. You made Steve Rogers, Captain America, come in his pants. God, he even whimpers when he’s finally spent.

“Think you can get it up again, old man?” You tease.

Steve may spank you when he bends you over the arm of the couch and makes another mess.

This time inside you.

Nothing to see here, lovelies! Go about your business! ❤️

[gr3yearl]

robin buckley as chappell roan and steve as her backup dancer and platonic soulmate (obviously)

something something they go to the vmas, perform, look cool as fuck whilst doing it, and eddie munson, lead guitarist of corroded coffin, is physically incapable of not making a fool of himself on social media, much to his manager's chagrin

everything goes along swimmingly between the two and with robin's career until someone, probably a rabid corroded coffin fan, digs into steve and discovers robin and steve are married, and have been for years

cue an extensive media circus where a not-small minority of robin's fandom cancels her for lying about being a lesbian. robin and steve work together to search for the patience to explain midwestern homophobia and lavender marriages to 12 year olds on tiktok and are reasonably successful, much to their surprise

roughly half a year after the fiasco had died down -- besides the occasional over-zealous kid trying to remind people why their fav is #problematic -- eddie tweets 'i <3 sleeping with married men', followed by a frantic reply of 'THERE WAS MNEAT TO BE A PICTURE WITH THIS', before he finally manages to post the intended picture of him and steve

robin, Shit-Stirrer Supreme, innocuously posts a week later a wedding picture of her and steve, captioned 'the only man i'd trust to always be faithful to me' and eddie quite publicly unfollows robin

the groupchat with all three of them in it is full of screenshots and videos of reactions for them to laugh over, reaching its peak when robin features on a corroded coffin song

[glynnisi]

Now, I have this thought taking hold where at the end of the Endgame victory over Thanos, the victors gathered round to celebrate and cry and congratulate etc. and Mantis realized that Steve was trying to decide whether to go back in time or stay and really give "the future" a chance... and when she saw this character, she thought Steve had decided NOT to go back in time, but to continue as the Avengers leader, living together with friends, new and old.

Which makes perfect sense since (as we saw in CATWS) Steve Rogers is a loyal friend who is capable of adapting and growing.

Pom Klementieff as Mantis The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special 2022 | dir. James Gunn

[qomrades]

steve harrington is Not a taylor swift girl to me. he IS however a lorde girl

[theconstantsidekick]

klaus got sober, finally got sober but was made a germaphobe. he was ridiculed for finally having his shit together but having weird coping mechanisms for it. then he was made to spiral again and then killed off. he got his life on track, was an exceptional uncle/second parent to his niece and then they made him sell his body for drugs and inevitably killed him off as a junkie.

luther, who was the leader, who was smart enough to be an astronaut could amount to nothing without his powers except from being a stripper. he had absolutely nothing and no one, even sloan was ripped away from him and then he, too was killed off. lonely and unaccomplished.

ben was brought back, finally alive, granted not the same ben but he wore the same face and he had a family who could annoy him into shape but he stayed a dick, became a apocalyptic monster and credited for the destruction of all the branching timelines, and died as a monster that he was so afraid of becoming.

alison got her happy life but couldn’t sustain it. her husband left her but at least she got to have claire and for that i can give credit but she remained codependent on klaus to be her passion project that made her feel better. she never learnt why that was not healthy and then died without her daughter.

diego had this beautiful life, a family that called him their own, three kids and wife who called him darling, and love and then he was made to fuck it all up because of some obsession with the CIA, in service of a romance between his wife and brother because the creator thought an old man needed some romance. he wasn’t even shown saying goodbye to his kids.

lila left behind her assassin ways, she stopped being batshit crazy and ultra suspicious to settle down with a man she genuinely and wholeheartedly loved and trusted, only to throw it all away because his younger (and yet much older) brother found her a timeline with strawberries. she was made to give up her kids, her family, her happy fucking life when all she ever wanted was to not be alone.

viktor got dealt the worst hand, always. he was abused vehemently by his father and ignored and relegated due to no fault of his own. he was made to feel ugly and broken and small but then he realised that his family loved him even if his father didn’t. he got a chance at being normal and he took it, only for it to be stripped away from him so that he could sacrifice his life for a world that was never kind to him. he was made to reconcile with his abusive father and then promptly erased out of existence.

five. my dearest boy, young man, old fool, five. he survived an apocalypse after another. fought tooth and nail to keep his family alive and well and dedicated his entire life to make sure of it. only for all his efforts to be made futile and his snark to be mellowed. he made it his life mission to keep the world safe and his family safe only for all that to be stripped away from his character and made into a lovesick fool who abandoned them during the final battle to mope about his brother’s wife not liking him back.

there were so many character assassinations this season, GoT writers would be proud of dear old steve.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Halloween had stamped itself as Hawkins' favorite time of the year, where teenager party and murderers prow. And you come face-to-face with that, when a particular masked man takes a special interest in you.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, alcohol consumption, minor sexual harassment, stalking, mention/allusions to murder, and explicit sexual content: groping, degradation, choking, role play (serial killer), mask kink, knife play, oral (male and female receiving), rimming (male and female receiving), squirting, cum eating, squirt make out…?, semi-public sex, dubcon (part of the role play), non con, and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | What do you mean it's not Halloween? It's always Halloween. Especially when it involves Ghostface!Eddie. Oh, and this is also a Modern!Eddie story. But wait, can you image Rockstar!Eddie singing "In the Room Where You Sleep" as, like, a Halloween special- I'd have an aneurysm. Sorry, that was a lot of Eddies.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 12.8K

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“Hey, it’s Eddie… or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie. I’m busy ignoring your calls, so leave a message or finally take a hin-”

The harsh smudge of your fingertip against your phone screen discerned your frustration, as you hung up with a huff, pacing your clacking footsteps a second faster than before. 

But it all fell short, when the heavy set of footsteps that trailed behind you only quickened to keep up.

Faster. Aggressively. Shit.

For the third time in a row on that brisky night, your call had went straight to voicemail. And you were ready to kill Eddie Munson. In retrospect, castigating your boyfriend for merely doing the very thing you criticized him about on a near daily basis—the whole “stop answering your phone while you’re driving” debacle that took place every time Eddie picked up one of your calls while heading somewhere, then rebutting you with a “but I love hearing your voice, it relaxes me” that he always whined out—was hypocritical, at best, but given the circumstance, you were exhorting to have your boyfriend disobey your word of safety for your safety. 

And the desperation that palpitated from the fervent clicking of your heels hitting against the rough pavement of the sidewalk to speed up your steps was starting to become humiliating. Because one step away brought them one step closer. By the nose, you narrowly glanced back. 

The same mask. The same hood. The same heavy boots. The same entity that followed you through the hallways of Steve Harrington’s wooded, stately home on the night of Halloween. 

Only the clock had struck a quarter past midnight. Halloween was over. The month of November had come. And yet, the figure behind you kept the mask on. Despite the lengthy walk from Harrington’s back patio to the intersection where Mirkwood and Cornwallis met, the mask stayed on. And your heart was beginning to race. You finally faced it. “God, you freak, stop following me!” Their steps halted. Gloved hand clenching around the handle of a knife that you wished to be of plastic. “My boyfriend’s on his way, so fuck off before he gets here!” God, you really hope he was. 

Turning around in a huff, your eyes constricted with frustration, as the steps behind you continued, in sync with yours. Coming closer. And closer. 

It’s just some stupid prank, you rationalized. It was one of the Stafford kids. Probably Declan Stafford. He was alway the worst out of the pair. It was best for your sanity to repeat that mantra over and over until Declan Stafford finally gave in and took off the mask. Only Declan Stafford was a fifteen-year-old sophomore. And you were desperately enforcing the incredulous lie that the possibility of Declan Stafford suddenly gaining muscle and height in the course of a single day was plausible. It wasn’t. But admitting that would be admitting that this wasn’t some immature teenager’s prank. 

And you were actually being preyed upon. 

“Hey, it’s Eddie… or is it? Ha-”

Why?! Why out of all the times Eddie blatantly ignored your concerns of picking up the phone while driving, did he actually decide to listen to you on the one night you needed him not to?! Straight to voicemail. Again. But when you angrily hung up on Eddie’s pre-recorded tone—the one you couldn’t find endearing at this given moment—you heard it- or rather, didn’t hear it. The quietness. The crunching of fall leaves being flattened under heavy boots was no longer lingering. A biting breeze howled, and a hunting owl hooted. But no footsteps. 

You hesitantly turned around…

He was gone. 

Your shoulders fell with the relief of your untightening chest, as your joints unlocked from tension, a foggy breath escaping in solace. For a moment, you relished in the quietness of the night with closed eyes. Something you hadn’t realized you missed so deeply until you had it back in your possession.

With a dissipating heartbeat, you ran a hand over your perspiring face that felt ablaze with terror. But Declan Stafford, or his other half, or whatever other delinquent freak that it was was finally out of sight, and you cursed the juvenility of boys during the night of Halloween. 

Fighting the liquor that buzzed your body with heightened emotions, you blinked the dryness of your eyes to steady the blurred disfigurement of your phone screen. Your thumb smashed against Eddie’s contact once more, a last resort to finally chew him out, as you teetered on high heels to turn back on your trek. 

Only, your steps halted at a sudden obstruction, and you watched the tempered glass of your screen protector crack against the pavement at your feet, as your heels stood toe-to-toe with the boots that plagued you. 

“Hey, it’s Eddie…” Your head slowly followed up the broad, black figure, “…or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie.” Your stomach sank to the stagger stature that overpowered you. “I’m busy ignoring your calls.” His mask, deprived of anything holy, stalked down your trembling frame, mocking you with the tilt of his head.

Your breath became lodged in your throat.

“So leave a message or finally take a hint.” Your mouth dropped with the words you couldn’t find. And he allowed you the grace of one step back, before…

“AH- mmm!”

The leather of his glove smeared your lipgloss with the tightness of his grasp, as your screams diffused into a muffle of wails. With much resistance, your nails bit through the sleeved fabric of his clothes, but nothing was penetrative enough to deter his strength, merely constricting your flailing body more with a muscled arm. Your enveloped screams cried of defeated desperation, as you lost your footing to the strength of his embrace, now at his mercy.

In the distance, a meandering stray may have startled at the abruption of your stifled pleas. But in the beat of a second, they’d continue their hungry journey for a helpless mouse or scraps, as your screeches would succumb to the darkness of night.

No longer salvageable.

-

SEVEN HOURS EARLIER 

“Mm… saw something touching your head, in the room where you sleep, mm…” You thrummed to the buzzing tunes, scrunching your face as an averse to the tickle of your makeup brush, against your greatest efforts of trying to stay still. 

But with a little black there, and some pink here, you squealed with anticipation of the night to come. 

Autumn had brought a chilling front to Hawkins, Indiana, and the small town of suburbia had never looked so good with a flood of orange and red crunching beneath the tiny feet of early trick-or-treaters. Credits to the Yankee Candle that burned its essence in the corner of your bedroom, the fall season felt at ease with the cinnamon apple that warmed your being. 

“You better run, mm, you better hide…” Should the day ever come that you discover that you were actually singing along to the voice of Ryan Gosling, you’d flip your shit to your boyfriend on an endless ramble, but until then, you’d cluelessly enjoy the ominous tune of Dead Man’s Bones in the name of Halloween.

In the reflection of your vanity, you shifted in the various angles of the beaming sunset until you were fully satisfied with the face paint that decorated your features.

You stood from your place, prancing about to the beat of the music, as you swayed your way to your bed, where your purchased costume displayed itself, awaiting you. While your boyfriend appreciated the art of Halloween, and had much interest in the horrors behind it, the anticipated “costume talk” fell on deaf ears- or, at least, defensive ones. Something about looking stupid, you weren’t entirely sure. Though, what you did know was pointing out the irony of not wanting to look “ridiculous” whilst sporting a mane like his in retaliation was not at all a good idea, as his response came in the form of torturing you in the dramatics of wrestling on his frumpy mattress. 

Touché, to Eddie Munson. It came as a good deterrence away from the conversation that would inevitably lead to him wearing something you sparked from Pinterest. Because in the end, Eddie Munson could never say no to you. 

No matter how stupid he’d look. 

But, as any reputable couple therapist would advise, compromise is key. And where you insisted on a cute couples costume, Eddie met you with the request to, at least, get to choose what that may be. And much props to him, you swooned at the adorable idea of being the abducted cow to his alien. 

Only, Eddie didn’t allow you to celebrate too soon, as he vowed to go the whole nine yards. Devoid, black contacts; gargantuan, bald head; pale, soulless skin; creepy, gross tentacles. “I’m Heidi Klum-ing this bitch, sweetheart.” That night, you regretted ever showing him the moment a 5’9 worm walked the carpet. Something Eddie Munson severely got a kick out of. 

You straightened out your patterned skirt, smiling for the night that was about to come. With shoes needed for completion, you turned to retrieve your platform pumps, only… your peripheral had caught the silhouette of something- someone… staring… watching… stalking. 

Claiming the once calm view of your bedroom window. 

The October chill brought a draft against your mother’s clothesline, where her linens flowed in the evening setting, and there it was. Peaking through sheets, masked, and dark. 

Your eyes squinted to confirm the sight, as you hid behind your curtains, feeling your stomach plummet. What a psycho. Understandably, Halloween had declared itself around the idea of fright, but that came with the common consensus of harmless jumpscares and innocent pranks, not trespassing. “Stupid teenagers.” You mumbled to yourself. 

But a sudden bang from inside your house had you gasping, petrified. “Dad?” The hairs on the back of your neck stood with alarm. “Mom?” Footsteps rang closer.

And closer.

“Hey- woah.” Eddie Munson, himself, flinched at the sudden shriek that left your mouth at the abrupt opening of your bedroom door. His brow cocked at the heaving of your breath, your hand clutching to your chest. “Hey, sorry, it’s just me, baby, you alright?” He eyed you.

“Shit…” You huffed out. “You scared me!” Your mouth pouted at the chuckles he teased you with. 

Eddie smiled, mimicking your pout in faux sympathy. “Why? Thought you heard me comin’ in.”

“Ugh, well, yeah, but some immature kid is-” You turned back to your window, where suddenly nothing but your mother’s laundry hung to dry in the emptiness of your yard. They were gone. “I- what?” You inspected closer, your breath humidifying the glass. 

Eddie questioned your strange behavior. “What?”

You rotated in his direction. “N-Nothing. It was nothing- anyway, what are you doing here?” In an attempt to recover your uncanny nature, Eddie scoffed at the hasty rudeness your tone snapped towards him. 

“Well, for one, your dad let me in.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Y’know, I think he’s really starting to warm up to me.” His eyebrows jumped with cockiness.

And it became your turn to scoff at his presumptuousness. “If anything, he hates you a little bit more this time of year.” Because Halloween of 1984 became the year Hawkins, Indiana was terrorized by the vandalism of hoodlums, coined the “Toilet Paper Bandits.” Plastered on every front page of the Hawkins Post, the column followed the story of homes that became a victim of delinquency. Yours being one. Where you could find a little humor in your house, amongst others, being TPed, your father, as a mortgage-paying homeowner, became quite livid. In fact, you could vividly remember the rage of, “of course, it was that Munson boy,” when surveillance caught your soon-to-be boyfriend smiling sadistically with a roll of toilet paper in hand amongst his friends. “You gave him PTSD. He’s vowed to stay up all night to catch any ‘Munson wannabes.’”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “Hey, now, if it wasn’t for that night, his beautiful daughter wouldn’t be getting treated right by her strong, sexy boyfriend.” He smoldered in pride. And, as much as you could roll your eyes at Eddie Munson, he was far from fibery, as the night that followed Halloween of 1984 was filled with the sincerest apologies to all sufferers of his actions (not really, just you, as he always thought you were cute).

“Whatever, but seriously, though, Eddie, you’re not supposed to be here ‘til later, why are you here?” You interrogated. “I still have to finish getting ready, you do, as well.” You emphasized. 

With calloused hands delicately caressing your face, Eddie thought of his next move. “Aw, look at you, my cute, little heifer.” Because if not buttered up with affection, he knew you’d be devastated at the news to come. 

Your mouth fell agape. “Don’t say heifer!” Your hand collided with his chest. “Say cow! Cow is much cuter than heifer!” 

And he chuckled at your annoyance, always proud of his accomplishments that left you feisty. “You’re right, I’m sorry, baby. You are a very gorgeous cow! Best out of stock! You’d be, like, the one the farmer doesn’t slaughter for a burger.”

“Right, just kept to be bred for the entirety of my life.” While only a joke, you knew his sick mind would run miles with it, as the inevitable lip bite came to play. 

“Ooh, now that you mention it-”

“Don’t even start, you freak!” Your hand brandished over his mouth, only for you to shriek at the contact his wet tongue made with your palm, before taking a playful bite of your skin.  

But with the bite came an abundance of kisses to your fingers and knuckles, as Eddie held your hand close to his lips, eyes peering down at you with caution. “Please don’t be mad at me.” His words mumbled against your skin. 

Your brows furrowed with confusion. “What?”

Eddie sighed. “Boomer called me.”

You knew what entailed when Boomer called. “No!” You couldn’t help the petulant whine in your voice. 

“He wants me at the shop tonight.” Eddie kissed his teeth with a groan. And before your mouth could even form the hurdling question as to why, Eddie was there to clear it up with a sweet kiss to appease the disappointment. “We got a couple’a cars Boomer’s been hounding on us to get finished. ‘Specially, since Rick just had his baby, n’ all, we’re down a man. And y’know, honey, all the guys got wives and kids and shit, it was easier for me to stay overnight, and get as much done as possible.”

“But Steve’s party!” You huffed. “We were supposed to go tonight. We were supposed to do the Monster Mash!” Eddie’s heart sunk at the misery of your face. Where something as silly dancing may have landed insignificant in the grand scheme of life, you were the first person to cement the fact that with Eddie Munson nothing was trivial. 

You cared for the little things with him. 

Your head dropped with defeat. “Aw, I’m really sorry, sweetheart.” He ventured to meet your eyes. “Look, it’s a little extra money, I’ll take you out on a real nice date-”

“No, it’s not even- ugh, I just spent so much time on the costume.” Granted, it was nothing but ordering overly priced cow printed clothes from various websites, but it really did hurt when the hot glue gun came in contact with your finger, as you strived to glue a mini UFO toy to your headband. “I really wanted to go-”

“Sweetheart, please go.” He encouraged. While not the usual rhetoric, as Eddie Munson always prided himself in being by your side, especially with events such as an infamous Steve Harrington Halloween party, he could put it aside if it meant you’d enjoy your night rather than sulking alone on Halloween.

In retrospect, should you have done so, maybe you still would have been alive today…

“Just promise me you’ll stick by Harrington and Rob, okay?” Despite the slumped shoulders of disappointment, you nodded to his request, and pecked his chin to pacify any guilt he may have been harboring for the turn of events. “Or hell, even Wheeler, saw her bitch out Carver for accidentally knocking over the newspaper stand, and with the look on his face, I trust her to do more harm than Stevie and his Farrah Fawcett hairspray.”

“I’m gonna look stupid just being an abducted cow.” You huffed, as you examined your DIY alien spacecraft headband, puffing out a giggle at the extensive amount of hot glue it took to secure the toy to the hair piece.

And Eddie Munson was right there to laugh along with you. “Believe me, baby, with what I had planned, you would’ve looked more stupid with me.” With a pout still distinguishable through your pitiful giggles, Eddie gently kissed your forehead, careful to not smudge the black spots that adorably littered your face. “I’ll try to finish up as fast as I can, and make it before the cops turn up, okay?”

“You sure you won’t be too exhausted?”

“To do the Monster Mash with you?” Eddie scoffed. “Hell no!” And he smiled, as your chest erupted in a bubble of laughter. “Might smell a little like grease, but so be it. Hell, I’ll even stop by the trailer, and come as an alien mechanic. Probe you with my wrench if you’ll let me.” 

Eddie flicked out his tongue, and you squealed, as he attempted to smother you in his perverted ways. “Get off of me, you freak!”

“Alright, alright.” He calmed you through your fit of chuckles. “How ‘bout,” he quickly kicked closed the door of your bedroom, “you show that little number you’re wearing tonight, so I can know what’s waiting for me? Little motivation, if you will.” He winked. 

“Ugh, my dad really does hate you, y’know?” Your arms instinctively caught around his neck, as his veiny hands gravitated to your ass. 

Eddie derided. “Ha, just ‘cause I love eating my raw, juicy steak.”

“Ew, you perv!” Your laughter was concealed by the capturing of his lips.

By the grace of your closed bedroom door, your parents were spared from the spank of Eddie’s hand against the meat of your ass that rippled with a stinging clash.

Eddie moaned. “You love it. You so fucking love it.”

You did. You so fucking did.

-

In the lonesome of the darkness, Eddie smiled to himself. The heat of his phone radiated against his skin, warming his cheek, as your squeals brought a joy to him like no other. “Oh, my god! You guys look so cute!” Even through the static of distance that blurred with the background of house music, your voice still lit a desire in him that could never be extinguished. “You’re- Eddie, they’re so cute!” Sandwiched between your shoulder and head, you played around with Robin’s tie, as she—among Nancy and Chrissy—geeked at the enthusiasm of your compliments. 

Despite his absence, your refusal to his exclusion left you detailing the present moments of Steve Harrington’s party over a call that surely overheated the phone. And what Eddie figured was the greeting of your friends may have left you a bit distracted from him, your distant conversation was enough to have him chuckling to himself, relishing in the moment that made it feel as though he was actually there.

“Ah, you even added the tattoos on your hand!” You screeched. “Oh, and your hair-” You moved onto Chrissy.

“It’s a wig! I couldn’t commit, ugh!” She clarified with a drunken slur that confirmed the group was well acclimated to the party, before you had arrived. 

“Eddie! Eds!” 

Eddie huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah, baby, I’m here.”

“Chrissy’s Phoebe! A-And Nance is Lucy! And, of course, Robin is Julien!” You shouted over the thrum of the music. “And they’re all wearing their matching suits! Boygenius! You remember? T-The songs I showed you?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I remember, sweetheart.” Eddie smiled, a wish so vastly that he could experience your face of pure zeal. “Take pictures, baby, I wanna see it all.”

“Aye, where’s your other half?” Breaking through the static, that frat voice was far too familiar for Eddie to ignore.

“Oh, baby, please tell me if Stevie’s wearing something stupid!” He begged. If it wasn’t for the things Eddie Munson could hold over Steve Harrington’s head, their friendship would’ve succumbed to the awkward tension that came from being polar opposites in the hierarchy of high school. Call it karma for all the comments from The King’s friends that irritated The Freak’s life. But it was the teasing that allowed their “hatred” to manifest nicely. A genuine development into frenemies. And given that Halloween of last year was spent with Eddie Munson berating Steve Harrington on his “lazy” choice of a costume—nothing but pants with tiny, red flags held within his waistband; i.e., a walking red flag, i.e., Steve Harrington’s excuse to walk around shirtless—The Hair, himself, vowed to come up with something more… creative.

Your laugh vibrated through the speaker. “Oh, Steve, what are you wearing?” Your hand clasped over the shock of your gaping mouth. 

Eddie practically lunged through the phone. “What?! What is it?!”

“Your boyfriend isn’t the only one who can rock a vest.” Steve’s cockiness garbled through the heavy gulp he downed of whatever tainted his red solo cup. And with the vest, accompanied the tightest jorts you’d ever witness. Something old, like the Levi’s of his sophomore year, found in the ensemble of polos and sweaters of his closet that he could commit to destroying. And that he did, with the kitchen scissors of his mother, those pants turned into shorts, that then paired with knee pads and boots. “I’m Steve!” He spat into the mic of your phone, after drunkenly stealing it from your hands. “‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin!” That Farrah Facett hair spray wasted to good use to slick back his mane.  

Leave it to Steve Harrington to find a more creative way to be shirtless on Halloween night. 

Despite now being pressed against the warmth of Steve’s ear, you could hear the guttural laughter of your boyfriend echo through. “Steve, give me my boyfriend!” You whined. 

But your pleas went unheard. “Oh, man, I told you I was going all in!” These were the guys that claimed to hate each other? Yeah, right. “Nah, the girls are lovin’ it! Got the abs out n’ everything! All I gotta do is ask ‘em to wrestle, and they’re gigglin’ their shit off! I’m so getting laid!”

“Give me my phone back!” Your efforts fell unaccomplished, though. 

“And where’re you at, man? I’ve got people asking for your supply! Thought you were comin’.” You rolled your eyes at the lost cause repossessing your phone became. 

But you allowed your boyfriend to be virtually stolen, as the entourage of lesbians had plans to whisk you away to get something in your system for the night. Though, without his presence for reassurance, you were conscious of what you could manage, and kept it light enough for your body to buzz with relaxation. Eventually, your strength was able to pry away your phone from the sweaty hands of Steve Harrington, but not before his booze breath pervaded you with the stern information that he was in charge of you for the night, as per request of Eddie Munson. But, with pupils dilated like his, distractions being as easy as beautiful ladies walking by, and the atrocity of his outfit that left no room for seriousness (or the imagination, for that matter), Nancy Wheeler threw you the responsible look of understanding that she’d cover that shift. 

By the dead of night, you’d succumb to the rhythm of the music, and let your body fall to the beats that vibrated your soul with liberation. With bodies decorated in costumes swaying against you from every direction, you never minded the tease of a hand brushing your skin. Packed like sardines in the humidity of an October party, accidents were bound to occur. 

But accidents don’t repeat.

And when fingers started squeezing, your head whipped around, only to catch what was a glimpse of a masked man slipping away. Through the beer goggles you harbored, you blinked at what looked far too familiar for your liking, but between dancing silhouettes and blinding strobe lights, your drunken mind couldn’t confirm what you didn’t want to know.

“Hey, you alright?” Robin’s breath fanned against your cheek, as she pulled your attention from the blank directions you were staring into.

You dryly swallowed. “Um, yeah…” Spoken far too unconvincing for your friend. “Just, uh, Steve wouldn’t let, like, um, underclassmen in, right?” 

“What, no, why?” She invited. “Shit, don’t tell me Dustin and the little rugrats are here!” Her sporadic eyes started bouncing from corner to corner. 

“No, no.” You brushed off her concerns, before they amplified to the degree of telling Nancy Wheeler. “Just thought I saw another freshman or sophomore, like, one of the Stafford twins.”

At the mention of the name, her eyes rolled on cue. “Those little shits? Yeah, wouldn’t put it past them to try to crash.”

Robin Buckley hadn’t known just how relieving those words were to you. With a solidified threat entailing your boyfriend, you could control the tiresome plague of teenage boys. But a pit in your stomach lingered where you didn’t like, as you briefly looked over your shoulder, but nothing but blended bodies blurred your vision in a haze. You took a deep breath, swiping the sweat that beaded along your hairline.

Clinging to her tie, you pulled Robin close to tell her of your departure for another drink. While allowing you to do so, her instructions of “not too much” trailed behind, landing on defiant ears. Your thrown thumbs-up was a lie, as more booze was felt necessary to rid that precedent feeling that still stiffened your hairs in apprehension. Because the what if's were beginning to outweigh the most likely occurrence; that it was someone dangerous stalking you, not one of the Staffords or their peers.

Navigating passed figures, your heels clicked against the kitchen tiles of the Harrington household, where sparse bodies littered about; a pause to the intensity of the late Halloween hour. 9:57 P.M, blinding you against the photo of your boyfriend, as your eyes blinked to adjust to the harshness of your phone screen. 

Holding up ok baby

Awaiting you for the past seventeen minutes, you clicked his message, and scrambled to respond, before any concerns were drawn from your stagnation. 

Yup, yup! Pretty packed, so I’ma getting a drink.

Your buzzing, inebriated mind conjured back. And within the pause of a couple seconds, the bubbles of his response appeared. You frowned. The image of Eddie bored out of his mind, surrounded by the cold metal of the mechanic shop, with nothing but fumes and grease tormenting his body had pestered your mind with guilt. 

Are you okay? 

Bored?

Would you bea ble to come? Now!

Leave it to your intoxication to interrupt his pending bubble. Though, there was never a care on his end. A smile always invaded his face when you were on the other line.

I’m ok sweetheart 

Not too much to drink ok

Not yet baby got some cars still needing a fix but I’ll try to make it as soon as possible

I love you

Your shoulders slumped with the huff that exasperated from you. You shoved your way past the drunks that habited the cooler, as you pried a beer bottle from the ice. Too annoyed to deal with the water droplets that froze your hand against the glass, you settled on plucking a cup from the stack.

 😡

I love you, TOO!

With a groan of all your strength, you popped the cap against the counter, letting the metal clink against the floor. You watched with blank eyes, as the amber liquid aggressively swished within the plastic, hearing the echo of your breath pounding against your ear. But, in the matter of a second, the hairs of your neck shot with heightened alarm, your heart following soon after with a beat anxiously faster than before. 

You stood frozen, your eyes darting, but ultimately losing to the depth of blackness surrounding you. Nothing. It had to be nothing. 

Until the air from your nose fell motionless, and your chest became inert. 

The breathing… continued. It was never yours to begin with. 

You swallowed thickly, before whipping behind you, flinching back at the staunch build of the man in black. In an eerie contrast, his blindingly white mask scrutinizes your wavering frame. 

Your mouth fell open to his arm that shamelessly came around your waist, and suddenly your hands were shoving against the density of his chest to pry him off. “You pig!” The words involuntarily flew from your mouth to spite him. In retrospect, seeing the broadness of his shoulders run along the towering height of his stature should have been enough confirmation that what you were dealing with was far beyond the likes of a juvenile teenager, but with a drunken mind fueled with vexation, you lost the necessity to see clearly. “Touch me again, and I’ll have you thrown out, asshole!” You spat back.

In an attempt to put an end to all of this, your hand gravitated towards his mask, hoping to peel off the confidence that cloaked his cowardness. But as your fingertips grazed the plastic, his gloved hands snatched a harsh hold of your wrist, forcing a gasp to be caught within your throat, as you flinched back. 

Nothing but the black eyes of his mask pierced your soul, as he stood silent, his hand flexing cruelly against your skin. 

Your chest heaved with the rapid beat of your heart, as it took all your strength to release yourself from his restraints. You quickly grabbed your drink and phone, not wasting a second to run away from the man, who did nothing but watch you run off in the blur of the crowd. 

Much to his dismay, it was you dragging Steve Harrington away from the pretty lady that was giggling her way into his bedroom later tonight. “W…What the h-hell?” He hiccupped. 

“Can you kick that person out?!” Your urgency came with your aggressive finger pointing towards his kitchen. “God, they’re being creepy and weird, a-and they were, uh, they were touching me-”

“Okay, okay, just take a breath.” Steve calmed you through your inebriated panic. “What guy? What person?”

Because when Steve Harrington followed the trail of your finger, it all led to the emptiness of his kitchen. Nothing but the casual partygoers, who did nothing but huddle in the corner, nursing their drinks. “Him… uh, h-” You squinted the hazy booze from your vision, but no matter how harsh the blinks were, he was gone. “H-He was just there. The, um, the Scream mask guy, y’know? Him?!”

“I- Y/N,” he really tried to give you the grace of understanding, but with liquor coursing through his body, and the clash of your consternation with the thudding of the booming music, Steve Harrington could hardly process the events unfolding before him, “the Scream mask guy?”

“Yes!” You forced out with frustration. 

Steve blinked. “There’s, like, fifteen people wearing Scream masks, Y/N.” Your eyes fluttered to your surroundings, hitting every corner of the Harrington residence, where Halloween truly brought out the most lethargic efforts of a costume: Scream masks. Steve watched your face fall in defeat, as his hand ran over his face in guilt. “Hey, look, just stick with us, okay? No more walking on your own. If they come back, you get me, o-or Nance, Robin, okay? Anyone.”

Steve’s eyes didn’t let up, until your head slowly nodded to his words. 

“And tell Eddie, before he fucking kills me.” Steve sighed, fanning his breath out. While you could appreciate his concern, you weren’t so keen on the babysitting nature of Steve Harrington’s efforts that he just couldn’t resist, as he guided you to the corner of the couch, and told you to stay put.

Effortlessly, Steve was able to maneuver his way back into the ropes of his rendezvous, all while a pout brandished your face, as you watched the rest of your friends unreservedly lose themselves to the night. 

Your thumb hovered over Eddie’s contact. 

Surely, the news would be broken to him, regardless, yet the dread of doing so still came with some hesitation, as you knew your boyfriend would be fuming in the lonesome of a garage, forcibly unable to focus on the work at hand, as he worried about you. And with the distance at play, it’d anger him beyond recognition, and despite not being his faults, he’d take it as so; not being there when needed, that is. 

Please don’t ger all weird and mad…!

You’d imagine that incoming pang of your message alarmed him, given how quickly those bubbles were to appear. His messages hurdling even faster. 

What the hell happened

Are you ok

weird? What weird? I don’t get weird

HELLO? 

Baby you have 5 seconds to respond

Your thumbs twiddled quickly to appease his inevitable worrisomeness. 

Someones being creepy at Steve's. 

Like, bothering me and trying to touch.

Me

And it’s really pissing me off. I had to tell them off just so they could back off. I’m sitting on Steve’s couch now.

And you could read his impending responses from a mile away. Because when it came to you, it was inescapable. 

I’ll be there

And that’s all it took for you to lurch forward in your seat, and risk the opportunity of catching a cramp in your hands, as your fingers took a tight clutch to your brightening phone screen. If it wasn’t for the music, nothing but the clacking of the digital keyboard would have infested your ears. 

No! 

No, Eddie, really, it’s okay!

I already got it handled. I told Steve, and he said he’d kick them out if they tried it again. I’m okay, really.

Don’t leave, Boomer will be angry with you. I don’t wan you to get in trouble because of me :(

Christ, you had just wanted to Monster Mash. But with hot bodies having no regard for your space, as harassment entailed you throughout night, and now the potential of a heavy admonishment waiting for Eddie from Boomer should he leave, nothing but a disappointed scowl danced across your face. And while you could appreciate the kindness of your boyfriend’s heart- really, you could, you could also find frustration in your boyfriend’s lack of awareness for consequences. Because, yes, it was unfathomably sweet when Eddie rushed to your side, when you simply texted him about the pains of your period. Though, what followed was an angry boss, who chastised Eddie for leaving in the middle of his job, only to punish him with a closing shift on your anniversary date.

Not fun. 

And with Cedars Evergreen Farm opening itself from the daily pumpkin patch to a nightly movie drive-in, Eddie had promised you an intimate date in the back space of his van, and you’d be damned if you lost your date night to the consequences of his actions. Eddie Munson had to stay.

The bubbles appeared. 

Stay with Nancy.

A period. Eddie Munson never punctuated. In fact, run-on sentences were his specialty. 

I mean it Y/N.

But, at the very least, you could relax—somewhat—with the knowledge that his profession and your date weren’t compromised on the night of Halloween. Your fingers typed away.

I won’t! Swears! <333333

I love you so much!!!

Ransacking through tubes of lip gloss and a tin of Altoids, your compact was pulled from the clutter of your purse, before it flipped to showcase your tipsy reflection. Aside from the minimal perspiration that smudged the edges of the patterned spots, you looked the cutest you could despite the night you endured, and some handsy delinquent with no manners wasn’t going to ruin that for you. 

Call me if something happens I’ll be there eventually stay safe and kick his ass if he does something else

Just kill him baby. 

Honestly.

I will eventually so what does it matter if you get to him first :)

As he always managed to do, even when not present, you giggled at the vulgarity of his words. With the tip of your finger, you cleaned up the imperfect smears of your makeup, before smacking your lips together with a lather of your seductive plum gloss. With a zhuzh of your hair here and there, you stood from your miserable place on the couch, choosing to ignore the chastising gasp from Steve Harrington, as you made your way to the girls. 

The audacious woman she was, Nancy Wheeler had wasted no time securing her hand around your wrist. “Hey, is everything alright?” Her voice amplified over the music. “Steve told me what happened.”

Though her stern eye was cold, you eased her worries with a flail of your hand, throwing something along the lines of “Eddie knows,” because if Eddie Munson knows, it’s taken care of.

Shoving the bothersomes of the night to the back of your mind, you graced the buzzing music with a warm welcome, as your body danced with the likes of Boygenius, and their carefree moves that came about with a burning cup of booze.

If Eddie Munson couldn’t be there to experience the thrills of Halloween—perhaps, being punished by running off kids who attempted to vandalize the garage; true karma—then, at the very least, you could retell the events with the blur of photos that claimed your photo album for the night. 

-

As the hours passed, your vision succumbed to the haze of alcohol that electrified your body. Strobe colors blended with the movement of strangers’ figures, and time seemed to slow, leaving you vulnerable to the predators that preyed upon you.

You saw him. Or maybe him. Every turn of your head, your eyes gazed upon the white mask that haunted your vision. In every corner. In every direction. But the liquor on your lips left your mouth numb and impuissant to the party your body craved, entrapping you in a defenseless state against his terror. 

You watched from outside of your body, as your limbs betrayed you to the laxness of your inhibitions. 

And through the darkness of your surroundings, you watched that taunting face creep closer and closer with every dragging blink of your eyes.

Robin Buckley twisted to the heavy hand on her shoulder.

Your pupils were blown out. “I-I need to use the bathroom.” Your tongue lapped at the dryness of your lips that cracked under your heavy breathing. 

“Okay, I’ll go with you.” She shouted over the music, but your head insisted otherwise with drunken fervency. 

“I’m j-just” hiccup “gonna call Eddie.” You steadied yourself on wobbly ankles. “Had too much to drink, I-I’ll call him to pick,” hiccup “pick me up.” To hell with Boomer.

Robin’s warm thumbs swept under the smudged eyeliner that rimmed your eyes, with sparkles that once was packed onto your lid now dancing along the highlights of your cheek. She regulated you with a small smile. “Don’t wait alone, okay? Come back here when you’re done.”

You nodded slowly to appease your gnawing headache. 

One step at a time, your surroundings seemed to slow, as your vision tunneled to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Feeling like a mile away, your fingernails grazed the smooth surface of the floral wallpaper that clung to the Harrington abode to anchor you for the trek, as drunk bodies alike shoulder checked you with no regard. 

When you felt the clank of your heels against the linoleum, your breath released with all tension, as the door slammed behind you shut, and you relished in the warped quietness the secluded bathroom was able to proffer you.

Flicking the light switch on had your head pounding and eyes harshly binding closed. 

The toilet creaked under the weight of your slumped body, as you blinked your vision straight to find an array of messages awaiting you. 

Feeling okay baby? I’m lonely without you sweetheart these cars are boring me half to death need to see you soon or I’ll die

Finishing up soon, you doing alright baby

Heading out sweetheart

I’ll be there in a couple minutes

You sighed in relief, fumbling to click his contact, and letting the ringing line massage your head. “Hey, princess.”

The static of his grumbly voice pacified your racing heart from an alcoholic adrenaline rush. “Eds.” You exhaled in peace. 

“Y/N.” You could make out the smile that lingered on his lips, as his tongue spoke your name. “Get my message? I’m heading over as soon as I get changed- and don’t get on me just yet, I haven’t started driving, so I’m not putting myself in danger.” He laughed. You always were quite serious with that ‘One Text or Call Could Wreck it All’ motto- well, at least, with Eddie Munson you were. He didn’t have an extensive relationship with the Hawkins PD for no reason.  

“No!” You whined into the call, lips pouting to their fullest extent. 

“No?”

Composing yourself, you settled into a deep breath. “Don’t change. J-Just come get me.” Your voice managed to mumble a response. 

“What’s the matter? Something happen? Are you okay?” His voice swore into your ear, the vigilance of it so prudent with protectiveness. 

Your hot palm smashed against your cheek in exhaustion. “Just drank too much. Got caught up, and now I’m too- I don’t wanna be here without you. Wanna go home.” Your slurred words bleated. The staticness of his sigh rang out in a heavy breath, and you knew an upbraid was to be waiting for you the next morning, after he kissed you okay with Tylenol and a hearty breakfast. Eddie Munson always did have a knack for setting you up for the keelhaul that disguised itself in affection. Really, the only time the adult man showed responsibility. “No mean words.” You fussed. “Not now, at least.”

“No mean words, baby.” Eddie soothed. “Okay, just give me a few minutes, alright? I’m leavin’ as we speak. Harrington’s house is not too far, should be around Mirkwood in five.” You nodded, despite the on call conversation. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, Eds, five minutes.” You ignored the dull ache of your toes, as you conquered standing on straight feet. “Thank you, baby.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose. “No need, sweetheart, just no more drinking, okay? No goodbye shot with Robin or Stone Cold.”

You absentmindedly giggled at the image of Steve Harrington. “Okay.” You sighed. “No shots with Stone Cold.”

“Atta girl.” He smiled. “Alright, just hang tight for me, shouldn’t be long.”

“I love you.” Your breath dragged on.

“I love you way more, so you lose.” Eddie could vividly picture the pout that etched itself onto your mouth. 

And it was his laughter that you last heard, as your jutted lips grumbled a “meanie,” before hanging up, because in your drunken stupor, that competition felt like a real loss. 

Turning to the mirror, you flinched at the state of your look. Luckily, Steve Harrington had no plans of having a lights-on party. Rummaging through his family’s unmentionables, you pummeled a fistful of cotton swabs onto the counter, drenching each end with the sink’s faucet of water. 

A bit of coldness brought some release to your hot face, as you followed the edges of the painted black spots that smudged with the perspiration of your skin. But in a blink of a second, the bathroom door rattled with a single bang. 

Your face twisted in confusion, your body stopping as you waited.

But silence was all that met you, and you blinked your eyes close to think straight. 

Steve Harrington’s house was packed with fifty plus strangers and acquaintances, all who whooped and hollered with an all you can drink display. It wasn’t irrational for a drunken body to collide against a door or wall in an attempt to seek a bedroom.

You sighed, continuing your task of trying to look slightly presentable. But Steve Harrington’s bathroom door didn’t hold up to another aggressive knock that left its hinges vibrating with the harsh hit. 

You swallowed thickly, aiming to ignore the hairs that stood across your body.

“S-Someone’s in here.” But a suffocating atmosphere of pure quietude was all that came in response.

Goosebumps terrorized your skin, as your chest heaved with the heavy seconds it took to wait for something- anything to occur. You quickly discarded the stained cotton swabs, before slowly approaching the door. 

Your trembling hand gently caressed the brass of the golden door knob, and with a swift swing…

Nobody.

To the right of the hall, the blackness led to the shed of light, where all party goers gathered in the setting of the living room. Your shoulders slumped with relief. 

And to the left-

Your heart plummeted. Heavy breathing echoed from his mask, as his built towered over your stature. The grotesque intimidation shot your eyes sober, as your stomach heaved with the terrifying sensation that consumed you. 

Pathetic whimpers poured from your mouth, as you took caution steps back, only for him to follow with each movement. 

Screw waiting. 

The epinephrine from his bone-chilling presence detoxed your body dispassionately, as your legs found the momentum to run away into the crowd. 

Yet, as you looked back, he all but laid back and watched, as he stood in place, taunting you with no effort. Almost getting off on how easily you scared.

But you weren’t going to be a part of his game anymore. Halloween was over as of 12:14 A.M. You were going home.

Shoving past interlopers, you scoured your way to the less densely populated area of the back patio. Stragglers were all that occupied the darkened backyard, lingering on outdoor loungers, surely tainting Mrs. Harrington’s cushions with cigarette smoke and beer stains alike. 

“Hey! Where’s your boy toy tonight? Been wanting to buy!” You barely acknowledged the slurred voice of a prospective customer, as your attention became engrossed with watching the dancing bodies through the glass door. 

For a mask. 

You barely spared him. “Not here.”

But not a flash of white in sight. 

The grumble of his buddies reverberated, as maybe for once, you’d be left alone for the night. 

“Well, then, can I get something from you?” The crudeness of his smirk was palpable without you needing to turn around. The whistling of his friends only fueled the anger more. “How ‘bout just a handy for double of what your boyfriend offers for a half ounce?”

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, screw waiting. “Fuck off.” 

Taking the graveled path by the gardens to reach the sidewalk, you shook off the residing anger of perverted boys and creepy stalkers, and sucked in the chilled air that the night brought forth.  

“Ugh, stupid people, stupid party,” and as the universe would have it, your ankle bent against the icing on the cake—a pebble, “ah, and these stupid fucking shoes!” You exasperated with a juvenile stomp to your foot. 

Luckily, the Harrington manor had the luxury of wooded solitude, where bystanders lacked, giving you the freedom of unleashing your annoyances with grumbles that would have had late night joggers crossing the street to avoid your strangeness. 

“This party sucks.” Your mouth groused, fingers typing fervently. “Couldn’t stand to wait, I had to leave.” The owl hooted, and crickets chirped. Nothing but the point of your heel scraping against the concrete sidewalk to accompany the midnight songs. “How far are you? I’m walking, you’ll probably see me.”

This party sucks! 😠

Couldn’t stand to wait, I HAD to leave!

How far are you?

I’m walking, you’ll probably see me.

In the year and some months change spent as Eddie Munson’s special lady friend—as he loved to say—you’d never once had to grapple with the nonchalant facade boys your age seemed infected with. No, your Eddie was never one to shy away from fast texting, hell, even double- no triple- no quadruple texting. He liked you, very much so, of course, he was going to show it. Even if it came in his uniquely Eddie ways. How the hell was waiting four hours to respond under the guise of being “busy” supposed to turn you on?! Eddie Munson had one goal, and it was to make you his girlfriend. To hell with slow texters! 

And yet… the bubbles never appeared. 

But with how clouded your mind had become with the turn of events the night took, you carped to yourself, clicking your phone off with an agitated slam of your finger, and continued your trek with hunched shoulders and a down spirit. 

Crushing leaves and kicking rocks was all you could succumb to in the face of boredom, as the hope of hearing that god awful exhaust with its metal music to pair driving down the street only grew stronger with every ache of your toes. 

“Of course, of course! All this would happen to me.” Contrary, conversing with yourself seemed to be the only semblance of sanity for you at the moment. “Should’ve just gone trick-or-treating. Should’ve just staked out with my dad.” Ah, yes, who was still, in fact, located behind your mother’s shrubbery, cocking his head at every giggle a passing teenager made. “Ugh, stupid boys!” The bane of your existence. You stomped with anger, “Hate everything,” you huffed. “Hate these shoes,” oh, how you would apologize to them when the time was right, “hate these clothes, hate my life-”

You slowed your steps. Confused.

The ribbit of a frog leaping from lily pad to lily pad was all too familiar with the great puddles that dampened the forest environment. The pine trees, too, did their usual of entangling their branches in hugs with one another, as the midnight draft brought them closer. 

Normal. Everything was sounded normal… except… the whistling. 

No, not the rustle of wind, or the buzz of cicadas, but the sinister taunt of his hunt.

Your head whipped behind you, where your eyes rounded at his silhouette that drowned under the single flickering street lamp. 

Whistling. Preying. 

Your legs started without a moment’s notice. Though, your platforms only allowed for such limited speed, as you hastily dialed Eddie’s contact. Every impending ring sank your heart deeper and deeper, as the pit of your stomach felt as though it was going to collapse in on itself. His whistling only a few feet away. “Hey, it’s Eddie-”

“Eddie?!”

“Or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie. I’m busy ignoring your calls, so leave a message or finally take a hint.” 

“Ugh!” Frustration hung up the phone, as you no longer found the charm in his childish voicemail greeting. “God, just pick up.” Your steps quickened to a slow jog. “Pick up, pick up.”

The ringing had simply become torment to you now. “Hey, it’s Eddie… Or is i-”

You whined in exasperated disbelief. 

“Fuck.” The whispers of your dread passed through your lips, as a stolen glance back only confirmed the proximity of which he managed with ease. Two jogs forward was a simple step for him.

Your chest heaved under the mounting pressure and the fear that tore your stomach to shreds. Your legs felt numb against the terror, and suddenly, your eyes were clamping shut with wishful thinking that all of this was just an unbearable nightmare, because through your quickening breaths, the heavy steps of his boots sounded closer… and closer…

-

Nothing but a flood of trees swallowed your surroundings, as his taut grasp of your body forced you into the dark abyss of a desolate forest.

Your throat ached at the screams that ultimately surrendered to a deadened buzz against his hand, as nothing but the crunch of leaves that snapped under his weight was all that could be heard in a miles radius. 

With an elbow to his ribs and a kick to his shin, you gave it all your might to escape from his clutches, but your efforts never came to fruition, as the skin of your body became pinned to the scraping bark of a tree. 

His heavy breathing rang against his mask, as his face taunted yours, watching the tears stream down your cheeks, as snot congested your wails. “Aw, don’t cry, my little… heifer.”

Slowly, your nails relented from his arm, and your eyes turned to bore into the black ones that adorned his mask. “Eds…?” His loosening fingers around your mouth allowed your whisper to speak. In a moment of clarity, his smell became all too dear of cigarettes and cedar spice. Your Eddie. “W-Wha… Eddie, wait, what’s g-”

Though, as your body began to fall slack under the ease of his familiarity, his sinister laugh only mocked your moment of vulnerability, as he exploited your weakness to have his heavy body pressed against your backside.  

“Oh, what a sweet body to slaughter.” The depth of his voice had your heart now beating with something more than fright. “You wanna make it to the sequel, baby?”

Because suddenly, the night of September 4th came to memory. 

Nana Munson’s—may her soul rest in misery (an avid believer of corporal punishment against a rowdy seven-year-old Eddie Munson)—couch had fallen to the impressions of both yours and Eddie’s body, as the Saturday evening brought laziness against your energy. Secured between his legs with your back falling lax against his chest, your eyes lulled to the scratches Eddie provided to your underboob against the imprints of your now discarded bra.

But the cries of Tatum Riley, as she capitulated to her death by garage door, had blinked your eyes awake. “Think it was Stu?” Your face scrunched under the sudden loudness of his voice. Much to his credit, though, Eddie hadn’t been aware of your drowsiness. 

“Huh?”

“Y’think Stu killed Tatum?” He reiterated. 

Your brows furrowed. “No way, that was his girlfriend.”

His chuckle reverberated from his chest. “Clearly, that didn’t mean shit.” Spoken truthfully, as her lifeless body dangled above. “But surely he had to be the one takin’ the reins on that one, he set her up.”

“Set it up, sure. But killing her? Nuh-uh.” Eddie laughed at your definitive state. “He had the whole party to host, someone would’ve noticed him missing. Plus, no one was expecting Billy to even be there, giving him the most perfect opportunity to do it.” You disseminated factually.

“Okay, okay, so wait.” Eddie cleared his throat. “You’re saying Billy snuck inside the house, then back outside, and just went all the way around like that, hiding the costume n’ all, to kill her? Someone totally would’ve seen him.”

With a debate at hand, you attempted to sit up, but his greedy hands held you back, wanting to continue to seek solace in the body heat your boobs generated. “Okay, it’s odd-”

“Really odd.”

“But, Billy’s calculated, y’know.” You retaliated. “If either of them are going to pull it off, it’s going to be Billy. You know how, like, clumsy Stu is. He couldn’t have done it.”

Eddie dramatically brushed you off with a pestering psh. “You’re just sayin’ all that, ‘cause you like Matthew Lillard.”

“Please, everyone knows Billy killed Tatum.” You laughed. “This has nothing to do with Matthew Lillard being hot- ow!”

His nimble fingers squeezed at your pebbling nipples, as he menacingly chuckled in your ear. “Swear, I’ll put on that fucking mask and have my way with you if I hear you call another dude hot.” But oh, how that thought, itself, was already having its way with you. Wriggling in his embrace, your actions did not go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as he eyed the rub of your thighs. “Oh, you like that!” He smirked.

“What?” You squeaked, fighting through the endeavor of avoiding the eyes that tried so hard to look into yours. “No, I don’t. Y-You freak.” But the heat of your face was palpable, and Eddie reveled in the bashful embarrassment that he could elicit within you.

“Oh, you so do, baby.” He sneered in your face, the silver of his rings stimulating goosebumps on the canvas of your skin, as his hands cupped your fullness. “Hm, want me to fuck you with that mask?”

You whined at his words. “Eddie.” 

“That’s honestly hot as fuck, y’know?” His voice dripped with arousal, as his hands roamed your belly. “Letting me fuck you to spare you, fuck, throw in that knife you like. Begging for you life, shit.”

And with that hand of his sneaking between your legs, who were you to remember a one-off conversation from over a month ago?

The trunk of the tree bit at your cheek, as he forcefully affixed your body to the rough surface. Cold metal clashed against your thigh, and suddenly the scrape of a blade was shooting chills through your body; his pocket knife. “Ugh,” his groans intensified, as his hand got lost under the ruffle of your skirt, letting your clothed cunt be teased by the sharp edge, “the things I could do to you. And not a single soul would hear. Not your screams. Not your cries. Just completely at my mercy.”

You gasped at the unforeseen slice that ripped your panties in two, forcing the ruined lace to be soiled in the ground below you; the night’s draft now blowing against the flooding wetness of your exposed folds. “Please.” His laughs were all that met your pleas. “D-Don’t hurt me.”

Oh, what a fantasy come true. 

Your teeth pierced into your swollen lip, as the flat edge of Eddie’s knife abruptly pressed into your clit, its coldness sending shockwaves to the hot bundle of nerves that had your hips driving back onto his pulsating bulge. 

“Don’t hurt you?” He mocked. “Oh, but how fun would it be if I did. Huh, my little calf?” The fear that stirred in your belly was only able to ease for a second, as his sharp blade finally left your core, but only to trace the skin of your naval. “To bruise your skin, break your morale, violate your body- ugh, this pretty, little body.” His knife severed your tiny shirt in two, expelling your breasts. Eddie’s gloved hand then bunched your skirt at the hip, letting the cool zephyr nip at your naked body. “God, look at that.” His harsh hand groped your ass, pulling your cheeks from one another to see the glistening of your pussy under the moonlight. “And I can just do anything with it, huh?”

“I’ll do a-anything, I-I- just please, I’ll let you do anything, just let me go-”

“Oh, no, baby, look at you.” Eddie’s stature followed down your squirming figure. “You’re never leaving me.” Before you could get a word in, his strength brought you to your knees, your skin digging into the dirt and discarded panties of the ground. In a flash, his knife pressed to your tensing neck, as his mask stared you down from his height. “You better fucking show me how much you think your life is worth.”

Your manicured hand wasted no time to undo the metal clasp of his belt, as Eddie sighed at the relief his throbbing cock felt from the confined restraints of his jeans. Precum drenched his boxers wet, and behind that mask, your boyfriend smiled at the delicate kisses you offered to his body, despite the debauched scene at hand. 

His cock sprung with an angry tip targeting your face, and your graceful fingers found themselves scratching at the unruly curls of his pubs, before wrapping around his girth to pull back to the sticky skin of his cock. 

“Mm!” You moaned, as you tongued at his head, collecting the budding seed that oozed from his hole. 

His hands didn’t hesitate to grapple onto your scalp, bringing you forth with dramatic moans, as his pocket knife rested against the plumpness of your cheek. “Ooh, fuck, yes.” His teeth clenched tightly. “Shove it down your fucking throat like your life depends on it.”

Your tongue salivated along the underside of his dick, as your lips latched onto his length, constraining you to take all you could of him. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, coating him in your spit that allowed your slick hands to jerk him with burning friction. His hips couldn’t help but drive forward, and he selfishly ignored the chokes that restricted your throat taunt, merely giving him something tighter to fuck. 

“God, let me trash that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” His hairs tickled your nose, as a mess of spit and precum slung from his cock to your chin. Hollowing your cheeks had Eddie’s mewls echoing from his mask, as your eyes peered up lovesick at the sight of his bruteness taking all he felt was his.

He tapped your cheek disrespectfully, forcing you off his cock, only for his heavy hand to shove your head lower. “C’mon, you know what to fucking do, you fucking slut. You wanna live? You wanna go back to your boyfriend?” He laughed, playing his part menacingly. “You wanna be able to suck him off with that same fucking mouth you sucked mine with, you better make me fucking feel good, or you’ll be no use dead in the woods.” 

Your mouth locked onto his heavy set balls that shoved itself in your face, and you suckled at the velvet skin, pulling it from his body, and feeding it into your mouth with whines of satisfaction. Your wet muscle tickled his legs numb, with his knees buckling at the massage he forced out of you. 

And inch by inch, your tongue teased the expanse of his taint, until he felt it prod at his pulsating hole, and he forced your face deeper between his thighs, as nothing but his cock and balls swallowed your face. “You dirty fucking whore, ugh!”

Such an intimate spot, his musk invaded your senses with nothing but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie flooding your surroundings. His thick thighs suffocating your face; his leg hairs nipping at your cheeks; his balls smashing against your nose; his cock leaking on your forehead. There was no leaving Eddie Munson. 

He consumed you. 

“Dirty that fucking face, shit, m’gonna make that pretty fucking face filthy!” Eddie rode your face, forcing your tongue to plunge into your tight asshole, as you tried to keep up with his rough movements. “Eat my fucking ass, all your worth doing—shit, shit, fuck, I’m gonna—shove your fucking tongue in there!” 

Your nails clawed at his thighs, branding red streaks to bleed against his pale skin. 

But unexpectedly, you were rammed onto the dirt with a gasp of surprise leaving your mouth, as his barbaric strength manhandled you onto your tummy, blatantly ignoring your struggles.

His heavy weight suppressed your body to your ground, as his merciless hand came around your jaw, squeezing your face. “Smile, baby, big fucking smiles.” Eddie forced your lips to pucker. “Want nothing but smiles outta you while everything is happening. Show me how pretty you are- how happy you are to have me violate you, how much you love this.”

You felt his dense cock poke at the globes of your ass. “You gonna be a good fucktoy, and let me ruin these holes, huh? Not going to make a noise? Not going to tell anyone? Yeah?” You whimpered at the thick head to pried your sticky lips apart, catching your clit, only to glide back to your sopping entrance that clenched with need. “And I’ll let you live, I’ll let this pretty body live. Yeah? Go back to your boyfriend, but you’ll still be mine, no? When you’re leaving his, I’ll take you on the street. In the middle of night, when your clueless parents are asleep. When you just want to live in peace, but I’ll be there to wreck it, because this body’s mine. It’s all mine.” 

His cock intruded your pussy. “Ah! Yes, yes! Make me take it!” Dirt stuck beneath your nails, as you attempted to cling onto the ground. 

“Fuck!” Eddie bleated, as he fell balls deep, flushed to your back. “My fucking play thing.” He punctuated with a rough thrust. “My fucking pussy to use.” 

With seven inches pumping deep, the ridges of his cock rubbed against your sensitive g-spot, as your cunt stroked him of his precum; a ring of your mixing cream flooded at his base to splash his naval dirty. Your arm managed to snake back, pushing the endeavor to slow his hips from the rapid pace he was fucking at, but his hands shut down your futile attempts.

“Nuh-uh!” He masked pressed to your face, your arm now pinned to your ground. “You said make you take it, you’re gonna fucking take it!” Eddie’s guttural voice vibrated against your ear. 

“Y-Yes! Whatever you say! Please!” Your neck ached with the stretch Eddie was forcing to keep your head up. “Use me! Need you to use me!”

The veins of his cock were hammering with desire, as all his blood pumped to his groin to keep it hard until it got the release it was begging for. And he did all to get you there, as your walls were quivering around his length, your cries bleeding through the tight hold his hand kept to your jaw. The woodland creatures of Hawkins, Indiana were perking their ears at the wails of what they could only infer was an innocent critter being preyed upon; not too far from truth. 

Your soft walls kept him warm against the biting chill of the night, and by the way your back was arching to shove your ass deeper into his pelvis could only mean you, too, were selfishly begging to satiate that aching need.

“Mm, fuck! Look at that ass.” He peered to see the fat of your cheeks recoiling against the snap of his hips. “This fucking ass and cunt- such a dirty, little fucking cunt.” His chest peeled from you, as cold wind satisfyingly blew against the sweat that marinated between your hot bodies.

The leather of his gloves stung against your cheek, as his heavy hand came to spank your jiggling roundness, while he moaned at witnessing the length of his cock get lost in the crevice of your ass. Peeling them apart, he eyed your winking hole, and propelled his hips forward, so your neglected asshole could get a tickle of his pubic hair, as he ground himself against you. 

Your skin slapped together so violently in the waking hour of early November. Writhing beneath his body weight, your body could only hold back for so long, before you succumbed to your needs. 

“So fucking sick in the head, y’know that? Such a pretty face with such a sick head.” Eddie’s hand came to constrict your throat, thumbs digging into your pulse points. “You love this, love me abusing you, abusing this filthy fucking pussy—augh, shit, shit!” His cock twitched under the clenching of your cunt that fluttered from his degradation. “I’ll defile it until no one wants you- no one but me! But fucking me!”

He jackhammered in dick mercilessly, until your hole clamped shut around him; your nipples scraping against the dirt with every drill of his hips. “C-Can’t—ahh—take it anymore! Too much! Stop!”

“Mm! You can hate this as much as you want, but your slutty body fucking loves it.” His fingers found themselves on your thudding clit, harshly circling it with the soft material of his gloves. “Cum for me, baby, cum on fucking cock!”

The muscles in your stomach were cramping, as the pressure was mounting against your core. Eddie’s muffled moans were proliferating by the seconds, and his wet balls were seizing against your pussy, nearing the end of self-control. 

“I-I won't tell anybody, just let me cum! Please, please, please! No one, just between you and me!” Your pathetic blabbings had him laughing through the pain of his straining, aching cock.

Without a care for the tiny bugs that swarmed the dirt beneath you, your head dropped with the wails of your orgasm, as your body trembled with the overpowering sensations that wrecked your body lifeless. Your vision fell black, and all that could be heard was Eddie Munson’s fuzzy voice screaming with the release of ropes of cum that flooded your pussy full. 

Unable to kiss you with the barrier of a mask, Eddie did all but purr and meow, as he displayed his affection with clumsy headbutts, as your bodies fell slack in the middle of the woods. 

Slowly, as your vision came to be, and the blur was gone, your peripheral catched Eddie’s head menacingly turn, as he examined your lax state. And that laugh- that sinister laugh pooled your stomach with fear. “I’ll never be done breaking you.” 

Before you could protest, Eddie manipulated your lenient limbs, and knocked you onto your back with your heavy legs falling entrapped in his strong grip. Hoisted in the air, your oozing pussy opened up to him with your thighs pinned to your dirty chest. But you knew your body, sensitivity was buzzing deep within, and you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore.

Your weak hands ventured to slap his head away, but his strength overpowered you, and for the first time tonight, the mask came off. You bawled at the attachment of his full lips eating at your clit. “I’d love to send you back to your boyfriend with my babies stuffing you,” the vibrations rippled inside you, “but he’d know too much.”

Back and forth, his tongue trekked from flicking your bud, splitting you in half, and prodding at your tight asshole, where sticky arousal seeped into. “Augh! S-Sensitive, Eds!”

Eddie merely chuckled into your cunt, breaching it with the point of his tongue to lap all that flooding inside you. The tang of your pussy never tasted so good with his piquant cum, as his mouth ravished your opening, pulling and sucking your folds with the fervent shake of his head. Gluttony was committed with how unforgiving he was with gorging your wetness into his mouth, proceeding back to bully your bundle of nerves, until your body was jerking with trying to flee his inescapable hold.

“Stop! Eddie, I’m gonna- f-fuck, really, Eds, I can’t!” You tried to desperately plead, but if there was anything Eddie Munson loved more than you, it was actually just you completely at his mercy.

Consuming the cum from your pussy, your legs locked and trembled around his head, and instantly, warm liquid was inundating his mouth. Your cries from the aching release of your squirt bled sinfully with his moans from your taste, creating the most depraved music of your intimacy, as your eyes lost the will to focus on anything else, but the glowing moon against the night’s blackness. 

But in the haze of your inebriated mind, your boyfriend had crawled his body over yours, where mouths quickly connected. Only, the opening of his lips invited your squirt to soak onto your tongue. And it stayed there, swapping between your jaws, as both of you made fleeting attempts to consume each other with loving desire, until everything was swallowed from the intensity.

And all that was left was Eddie Munson smiling down at your blissed out face, his chin scintillating under the moon.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He caressed your face. “Would’ve just abducted you, but probing you felt more fun.” He teased at the irreparable damage done on your innocent cow costume.

You breathlessly laughed, refuting his words with an incredulous shake of your head. “Whatever happened to just asking me to take you to my leader?”

Eddie giggled, kissing you okay with delicate pecks that greatly contrasted from the lascivious events he put you through. He had sat up, degloving his hands—now drenched in perspiration from the confining heat—to brush away the specks of dirt that clung to your breasts. “Here, lift up for a second.” His now gentle hands helped guide the torn piece of clothing from your upper body, where the soft fabric now became a clean-up cloth for both your bodies. “I’ll get you new clothes,” Eddie groaned, seeking to squeeze his head from the hoodie that he took off, now proffering to you, “promise, sweets.”

“Help me up, don’t want a worm near my vagina.” He laughed at your whines, hands coming to entangle with yours, as a firm arm around your waist helped leverage you on wobbly legs. 

“Yeah, sorry for the lack of set up.” Eddie swiped the dirt off your bare butt. “Though, don’t think a nicely laid blanket and candles would have really fit the whole horny-violent-serial-killer vibe, y’know?”

“Well, duh. You can’t light candles in the woods, that’s dangerous.” Christ, you really were something to appreciate. “But, no, seriously, that was-” you eyed him excitedly with precious giggles, “that was really good. Like, better than anything I could have fantasized Stu Macher doing.” And felt the consequences of that joke with a sharp pinch to your ass. “Ah! Okay, okay!”

Eddie guffawed in your face, planting a searing kiss onto your hairline. “You’re insufferable, y’know that?” He hugged you tightly. “But you liked it? Not too much- hell, too little, you freak?”

“Nuh-huh, perfect!” You sweetly piqued, until you diverted with a swat to his chest. “But, Christ, Eddie, you really scared me! And lied to me! I thought some lunatic was following me!”

“Oh, come on, when have I ever let you go to some rager alone? A Halloween one, at that?” 

You pouted. “You made me hate Boomer just a little.” A guttural howl bubbled from him, as he went to pick up the discarded mask and pocket knife that was strewn about, your shirt and panties followed, gathered in his other hand. “And I have to throw these away.”

“Throw away?” His brow cocked, evidently in disbelief, as he examined your underwear. “Just because they’re sliced doesn’t mean they can’t be shown any love. Nothing I can’t add to the collection.” He smirked with a wink. 

“Damn it, Eddie, give me back my seamless ones, they’re the only ones I can wear with leggings without getting lines.” You remembered.

And his eyes couldn’t help but teasingly roll back. “Alright, alright, careful with the branches, baby.” Side by side, Eddie guided you through the wooded area, until the quiet sidewalk he once kidnapped you from came in sight under the yellow streetlights.

Though, while you two had your fun of kink exploration, unfortunately, your dear friends were nearly killing themselves over trying to find you three blocks away, plotting operation plans as to what may have occurred. Lying where it was once dropped, you grimaced at the piling text that bombarded you, when you picked your discarded phone.

Hey, I’m okay! Swear it, Eddie picked me up! So sorry! Was too drunk to stay and tell you! 😖

Hopefully, the off brand Lucy Dacus would be lenient enough to spare you for the night. You could face their wrath tomorrow.

“Oof, gotta spend the night with me, before Wheeler kills you.” Eddie’s nosy trait had him reading your messages over your shoulder. 

“It’s your fault! Ugh, you’re actually going to get me murdered!” You groaned, while all he could do was arrogantly smile at his work, until you abruptly stopped with a gasp. “You decided to sexually harass me all night instead of doing the Monster Mash with me?!” Christ, that pointed finger was so accusatory. 

Eddie’s hand flew up in defense. “Sweetheart, I swear I’ll give you all the Monster Mashing until Thanksgiving.”

“Y’know, I think this was all just your way of getting out of dressing up.” Your eyes squinted with the interrogation.

Oh, how you wanted to eat that sly grin away. “And fucking you? Yeah.”

“Ugh, you perv!” Eddie caught your hand before it could swat him, giving him the leverage to torpedo a swarm of open-mouth kisses to your face. “Okay, okay! Truce!” He combed your hair straight, chuckling at your disheveled state. “So, that was really you stalking me?”

“Yup.”

“At the bathroom?”

“Uh-huh.”

“In the kitchen?”

“Totally me, baby.”

“Outside my window?”

“Yea- wait, what?” Eddie flinched back in confusion. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Earlier today, when you came by. Y’know, watching me from my window?”

Eddie’s steps immediately came to a halt, as his face blended into concern. “Sweetheart, I never stood outside your window.” He declared. “Yeah, I came by, but seriously, your dad had just let me in. Who the fuck was at your window?”

You rejected the conversation, choosing to continue to walk. “Stop, Eddie, don’t scare me. You already have enough.”

“Y/N, I’m serious. I never stood outside your window.” Eddie Munson’s eyes were never one to genuinely lie. 

“M-Maybe it really was just some kid, then.” You rationalized. 

“Alright, look, let’s just really call it a night, and get home.” A protective arm secured you to his body. 

Because perhaps in the night, your drunken mind did notice two figures watching you that were simply chalked up to one. Maybe, the second one was the one watching from the corner, then from behind a tree. Maybe, it was the one that quietly stalked twenty feet behind with a knife that shined too brightly under the moonlight to ever be plastic.

Don’t you know couples who have sex on Halloween night are the first to die?

[never-quite-buried]

“2) to make real amends to her primary victims. Also, having her sit and talk to Tony about her anger against the American military industrial complex (which was what killed her parents) and how she conflated that with Stark.”

In what way does IM1 not tell us that Stark IS the MIC? Like. This scene is pretty explicit.

_____________________________________________________________

anonymous  asked:

1) Re: Wanda and her lack of redemption arc- One of the MCU’s biggest fuck yous was that they allowed Zemo to apologize to T'challa for his Father’s death as collateral in his revenge scheme, but didn’t have the decency to allow Wanda to do the same to the Avengers for stripping them of their autonomy and using them to hurt other people (of which the primary victims were Tony and Bruce). If they wanted to redeem her and make her more sympathetic, they really should have allowed her _____________________________________________________________

ambitious-witch  answered:

I’m really sorry that I didn’t answered this last night, nonny but it was very late here and I was on mobile.

1) Exactly. But honestly I like Zemo more than Wanda for that. They allowed him to apologise, but also they showed him not being so bat-shit hateful blaming all the evil on his life to the Avengers (just the death of his family) and he neither played the victim. Like Wanda did.

The problem with Wanda lays directly in her “tragic backstory”, I mean, just listening to it, it’s ridiculous:

This is a backstory that doesn’t work for an anti-villain/anti-hero to go straight up a hero. Because it’s illogical. The audience that has a minimal knowledge of how the world works knows that blaming the person that made the weapon is stupid an illogical.

Second part of the ask:

2) to make real amends to her primary victims. Also, having her sit and talk to Tony about her anger against the American military industrial complex (which was what killed her parents) and how she conflated that with Stark. She has serious trauma that needs to be laid out. I mean, Tony could have talked about how he too realized the faults in the MID and is trying to make amends for his ignorance and inaction. How it has led him to believe in accountability and checks and balances

Part three:

3) LIKE THE FUCKING ACCORDS. It would have been 10x better than Steve’s convo w/ her in the beginning of Civil War, where he treats her unintentional murder of 12 ppl as a small hiccup that can be corrected w/ “try try again”. But no, all we end up w/ is a character marketed as a child half the time, and an adult the other half. It’s character assassination and it sucks. Either show her struggle w/ redemption and accountability as a member of the Avengers, or keep her a villain.

The problem here nonny, it’s that the dynamics are terribly flawed and bad placed. With Wanda, her deed of joining the Avengers it was not for goodness, it’s was common sense and self-preservation. We never see her re-thinking about Tony or showing a single little remorse about hurting him, neither she seems to want to stop and think about the situation. Tony talking to her would have required she trying to go closer and talk but to the first moment that we see her on screen with him her intention are clearly hostile:

Look at the corporal language of this part. This is a hero? No.

This is an anti-hero? No.

This is someone who is conflict?

I dare say: no.

The point about anti-heroes and anti-villains is they know, very deep in them, they have a doubt, a conflict. Wanda doesn’t. She knows what she is doing. She knows that she is hurting someone and she knows what she did. Take a look to Bruce too:

Also take her reaction when he calls her out for mindfucking him:

Her expression seems to be the one of someone who regrets her bad deeds.

But…

Her face hardens when he threatens her and she doesn’t speak about the topic again. Not with him, not with Clint in their oh so marvellous pep talk.

Someone that answered one of my posts said that showing Wanda’s struggles were that ridiculous scene whit with her crying in front of Clint, so the audience have to see her as a poor misunderstood child that was very scared and didn’t know what she was doing…

That’s not how it works!

Wanda should have showed struggle and conflict since the beginning of the movie! She should have interacted with people that she hurt as you said but she didn’t!

And before somebody says something…

Clint doesn’t count! Steve doesn’t count!

Clint was not attacked by Wanda, he didn’t suffered in her hands. Steve? He forgave her at the instant. He attacked his armour-less teammate because of her word. He told Natasha, one of Wanda’s victims “she with us”, like she hadn’t some right of feeling uncomfortable by her presence!

They don’t count!

The base, the point for an anti villain to be redeemed and made an ally or friend in front of their enemies is the interaction and and the villain admitting that they hurt the protagonists. It’s simple, take Regina Mills in Once Upon A Time. She never became in a full hero but she earned trust by admitting her bad deeds. She showed struggle and doubt. She became a wondeful anti-hero Wanda didn’t.

Just look at the moment when she decides to side with the Avengers:

What choice do we have?

This is someone that learned form her mistakes. No.

No.

No.

No!

This is somebody that wants to fucking live. She wants to keep herself and her brother alive. There’s no doubt here. Not struggle in the loyalties. No conflict! She switched sides in the beginning and she does it again because it’s convenient for her. Not for goodness or anything that changes that she hurt people during all the movie!

She doesn’t doubt for a fucking instant to go to the “winning side”:

What kind of anti-hero can you get of that?

Which leads to CW. You said that she siding with Tony would have been the better, and yes, it would have been a good character development she being remorseful and keeping her initial supposed believes about accountability but with motherfucking Johannesburg, how it’s that possible?

How?

Like, that’s what the Russo and M&M tried to to do and failed miserably. They tried to sell us an anti-hero. They washed her awful deeds and make her look as conflicted when she never hesitated at the beginning.

They tried to us to believe that she can’t control her powers.

And that

is

bullshit.

And just bullshit.

They also made her clothes more clear, her hair too. Miss Elizabeth was wearing a wig, it was not difficult have one as her hair was in the previous movie.

They tried to vanish the darkness of her. Why? Because it its more difficult present a redemption for villain than a anti-hero. Or as that idiotic writers seem to think: that poor kid that did no wrong.  

Because it was more easy to forgive this:

Than this:

So, they invented this new Wanda, and put all the blame in Tony’s shoulders. The funny thing it’s that the audience it’s stupid enough to believe it. That might talk about the power of the female characters of being forgiven for everything as long they have a pretty face and a delikate body.

Even if it’s a character without struggles or good intentions, or remorse.

So, nonny, my opinion is firm. Wanda Maximoff’s redemption arc was a fuck you because she didn’t deserved or needed one.

Because Wanda Maximoff is better as a villain.

______________________________________________________________

An interesting take, to be sure, @ambitious-witch​. But as with most of these types of posts, you’re leaving out a few key details that vastly change the meaning of the extracted clips.

Let’s start at the top.

Wanda as a villain in AoU had one stated goal - destroy Tony Stark in revenge for her parents’ death. (The Avengers were kind of lumped into that revenge plan because they were acting as ally and protector to Tony.)

However, what you’re failing to mention is that this isn’t just a ten-year-old girl experiencing an intense, two-day long trauma that scars her for life and imprints the name that she had to stare at the whole time in her mind as the culpable party.

This is an entire country that believes that Tony is at fault for their loss.

In the beginning of AoU we are shown the Avengers attacking Strucker’s lab. In one of the scenes, Tony lands the Iron Legion in the middle of Sokovia and has them announce to the citizens that the sector is not safe.

The citizens are extremely wary - a few of them fleeing the area - but as soon as they figure out that the suits are just standing in place talking, they all start throwing things and attacking the suits.

Why is this?

Because HYDRA has been set up there for years, using stolen (or purchased) Stark tech to terrorize the city and kill people.

This isn’t just one random bomb. This is years of weapons emblazoned with the Stark logo being dropped on the city, knock-off iron legion suits shooting people in the street…this is and has been an all-out war, and the only clue that anyone’s had is that all of the weapons say “Stark” on them. And coming from an American weapons tycoon, that’s pretty damning evidence, as far as they’re concerned.

So damning, in fact, that when Strucker is looking for human test subjects for a highly dangerous and potentially deadly experiment, he gets dozens of volunteers, all of which die at his hands.

Except for the twins.

Destroying Tony is Wanda and Pietro’s main goal, yes, however at this point it is no longer just about revenge for their parents.

Maria shows video clips to Cap of the two of them leading riots in the street, trying to fight back. In response to Maria’s comment of “we aren’t at war anymore,” Steve tells her “they are.”

This isn’t two kids with a crazy revenge plan. This is two young adults who have suffered bitterly and are determined to see the cause of that suffering stopped before it can do any more damage to anyone else, even at the expense of their own lives. Because even if Tony Stark is not the one personally pushing the “fire” button on the missiles, he is the one creating them. And with no arms supplier, there will be no more weapons to use on Sokovia.

If the story had been shot from the perspective of someone in Sokovia, Wanda and her brother would have been the heroes of this story all along.

We as viewers are purposefully kept in the dark about what’s been going on there until the twins are established as the “villains” of the story - making sure the revelation is received as a sad explanation of why they’ve set themselves up as opponents to the Avengers as opposed to starting with a goal that we as viewers can get behind.

In fact it’s not until near the end that we figure out that Sokovia isn’t just some HYDRA-loving anti-Avengers stronghold, but victims of numerous and immeasurable crimes committed in the Avengers’ names.

Making Wanda and her brother “unlikable” before making them sympathetic was done purposefully to make sure that the viewers didn’t pity them or sympathize with them too quickly, or else the Avengers would seem far too harsh going into later fights.

The twins had to throw the first stone, or the Avengers would come across as unsympathetic.

More importantly, we are only ever shown the twins acting villainous toward the Avengers.

Maria states that Wanda only ever seems to inflict non-lethal damage to her victims, leaving them temporarily traumatized but alive and more than able to recover. (Ultron is the only one killing when they are stealing their resources, and he is leaving very telltale signs that it was him.)

A number of the places they hit up are run by HYDRA or smugglers - all of them “bad” people doing bad things.

The twins are kind to and friendly with the poor people in Sokovia. Wanda is protective of Dr. Strucker. The two of them are hesitant and uncertain when Klaue doesn’t immediately cower in fear, not wanting to escalate the situation any further than they have to.

And the second that they find out that Ultron’s goal is more than just the death of the six Avengers, they pull a 180 and attack him.

They follow a very common movie arc: fight against problem, join “ally” to fix problem, find out that “ally” is lying/backstabbing and that enemy isn’t quite as bad as we thought, team up with former “enemy” to stop the bigger threat, form a new alliance with once-enemy, save the day.

(Hell, a number of these themes show up in the plot-line of movies like Iron Man and Black Panther.)

These two are not villains. They’re a pair of teenagers fighting in a war to save their people.

A pair of teenagers who have been manipulated and abused and made to think that they were doing the right thing since they were ten.

(And yes, I realize that the actors are in their mid twenties, but canonically Wanda and Pietro are closer to 18 or 19 during the events of this movie, and thus are not yet legally “adults.”)

I don’t see you throwing a fit over Zemo torturing and eventually drowning that one HYDRA agent. Or Stark blowing up a terrorist group. Or Fury shooting the people attacking his ship in Avengers.

The difference? We as the audience know that they’re bad guys, so it’s okay to do whatever to them, because they clearly deserved it.

We don’t care, nor are we made to care, if the person being thrown down a flight of stairs or stabbed in the face was just a desperate man who needed money for his family, or someone who was there because some higher-up had blackmail over their head.

We don’t know, and quite frankly (as far as most viewers are concerned) it doesn’t matter.

This is the same situation, just seen from the other side of the coin for once.

Wanda and Pietro know that the Avengers are bad. Therefore why would they question if what they’re doing - attacking them - is wrong?

The other problem with painting these two as hardened criminals is that they don’t ever really act it. Every scene that they’re in, the two of them are hovering around one another, uncertain. Seeking reassurance. Comforting. In Wanda’s’ case, quite often, hiding.

In fact, Wanda’s always shown to be the more hesitant of the twins.

Pietro is quick to rush off into a fight, while she lingers behind until it comes to a confrontation that she cannot avoid. This is shown three times. First, in Strucker’s lab, where Pietro rushes outside to mess with the Avengers and Wanda hides in the base until Steve tries to get Strucker. Second, in the scrapyard, where Pietro zips off and Wanda hesitates at Ultron’s side until he tells her “time for some mind games.” Third, in the tower scene, where Pietro is first to take action when he unplugs the cradle, but Wanda doesn’t join the fight until she’s the last one on her side that’s still standing.

Even in the very first scene, you see them holding hands, and Wanda chewing her nails with nerves.

Immediately after that we get a close up of their faces, showing the two of them looking scared when they hear that the Avengers are on their way.

They aren’t out there actively hunting the Avengers down. They’re waiting for orders, because they don’t really know what they’re doing. They’re frightened of what’s about to happen. They’re both in this way over their heads.

They may not be ten anymore, but a lot of what they do is very child-like because of the rough and traumatic childhood the two of them had. They never grew out of it.

These two put on a bold act, but the minute the real teeth come out they’re just a pair of frightened and uncertain children. Often, until Ultron shows up as the “adult leader” of the group, the two of them don’t even take action.

And again, I’ll bring up the scene with Klaue.

The two of them step into his office and pull their go-to “be afraid of me” act to get info, but Klaue straight up brushes it off.

He laughs at their threats. Talks down to them. Offers them candy. Teases them. Dares them to do their worst.

And Wanda and Pietro are at a complete and utter loss because they don’t know how to approach a situation where their threats have not been enough. Ultron’s instructions did not include a caveat for “if the dude straight up laughs at you instead of spilling everything he knows and begging for his life.”

Therefore, the two of them are left standing in the doorway, looking to one another in confusion for what to do next, and Wanda even starts moving back into the shadows where she’ll be more safe.

Similarly, in the end fight, Wanda constantly looks to Clint - the nearby adult - for instruction.

Wanda and Pietro don’t even attack the Avengers at the scrapyard until Ultron gives the command.

It’s the same scenario in the scene right after they go to the tower with Steve, when they confront the other Avengers alone - the twins ultimately let Steve make the calls for them.

Unfortunately, the still-shot you have of Wanda doesn’t quite do justice to her reaction in the scene.

This isn’t “closing off.”

See the way she leans back a little? The little hitch in her chest? The way her throat tightens? This isn’t this isn’t her hardening off, this is her trying not to show fear. She’s seen the Hulk. She knows that Banner is the only one who might be able to tear her in half despite her powers.

It’s why she immediately stops fighting and freezes up when he grabs her.

You can clearly see the terror in her eyes the second she realizes who it is that’s got their arm around her throat.

In this scene, the twins have walked into the lion’s den - the Avengers’ home base - and even though they’re trying to look tough and keep their cool, they’re both terrified for their lives.

You can hear the fear in Wanda’s voice when Clint shoots the floor out from under Pietro. You can see the two of them sticking right by each other’s sides and looking around nervously in case they’re attacked.

They don’t argue or make excuses when they’re confronted, they back down because they know that they’ve wronged these people and the Avengers are under no obligation to listen to them.

The two of them are risking death at the Avenger’s hands so they can try to warn them about Ultron and prevent things from getting any worse.

And I would beg to differ with your interpretation of this scene. This is in no way self-preservation. This is suicide.

Her last little act of defiance barely a scene before nearly wound up with her and Pietro being shot.

And yet here she is, standing up to Ultron again. But this isn’t her siding with the Avengers to save her skin.

This is her picking death with the losing team.

Because in this scene?

ULTRON IS THE WINNING SIDE.

Ultron’s plan for a new world included Wanda and her brother. He was going to wipe the slate clean, and leave the two of them as the “better” humans in his new world. The “evolved” race that would rule at his side. If they’d stayed with him, they would have been guaranteed safety, because as we saw at the scrapyard, the Avengers are no match for the three of them, and Ultron is fond of the twins in his own strange way.

But they don’t stay with Ultron, where they are guaranteed life and safety.

This line here is Ultron’s last warning that she either assist him, or die with the rest of the Avengers trying to fight him. This was far less “oh well, Ultron is losing, guess I’ll change sides because I’ll get to live” and more “I don’t see how there is a choice here because unless I stop him he’s going to destroy the world.”

“What choice do we have” is a statement of morals, because as far as she’s concerned, there IS no choice. She has to stop him or die trying.

Helping him any longer is not even an option.

Now, as far as your point about Steve and Clint’s trust in her being “worthless” because:

“They don’t count!“

It’s quite frankly ridiculous.

There is one person who even comes close to fully trusting them before the final battle starts in, and that is Steve.

Steve has been playing devil’s advocate this whole movie, because he understands what the twins are going through. He’s not so caught up in his own country and his own issues that he can’t look at a situation from another perspective and say “I understand why they’re doing this.”

In fact, he even offers the twins a chance to walk away right before the fight at the scrapyard.

He didn’t magically start trusting them out of the blue, he’s been willing to hear their side of things from the start.

“Clint was not attacked by Wanda, he didn’t suffered in her hands. Steve? He forgave her at the instant. He attacked his armour-less teammate because of her word. He told Natasha, one of Wanda’s victims “she with us”, like she hadn’t some right of feeling uncomfortable by her presence!”

And here is where you start leaving out key details again.

Of the Avengers, Clint was the only one to fully escape having Wanda play with his fears, because he beat her to the punch. However, despite the fact that he’s the only one unscathed, he’s the most vocal about not trusting her.

It is not until much, much later - when Clint has already seen her in action, desperately trying to save the civilians from Ultron’s clones despite her own fear - does he step in to talk her down and keep her from having a panic attack because he realizes her heart is in the right place.

Even then he doesn’t actually decide to trust her until she saves him from being cornered and killed by the robots.

Out of the remaining Avengers, three of them suffered major trauma from Wanda’s actions, and two of them got off relatively okay.

The one who got off with the least damage from the encounter was ironically Tony Stark, who was shown a vision of what was supposed to be his worst fear - him being responsible for the death of his team - and who proceeded to shake it off and walk away, none the worse for wear.

(Note, this is one of Wanda’s early attempts at this kind of thing, a point which relates to a section further down about Wanda’s skill with her powers. She’s not very good at the whole nightmare vision thing just yet in the story, but by the time the scrapyard scene rolls around she’s gotten plenty of practice.)

Tony never actually voices any opinion on whether or not they should trust the twins. He just rolls with it.

The other Avenger who got off pretty light was actually Thor, who took his vision as a warning that something big was coming and went to investigate further. He also doesn’t specifically voice an opinion on the twins, but seems to be A-okay with trusting the two of them.

Of the three that had it pretty bad, Steve was able to recover the best. Perhaps this is part of the serum - his body fixing the physical symptoms of mental trauma - or perhaps he’s just better at coping with his particular fear because he’s been doing it since he awoke in the present. Either way, Steve is at least relatively functional after his run-in with Wanda.

He’s also the first one to trust her, because she and her brother risked their necks fighting Ultron to save both him and the innocent people that Ultron tried to kill as a distraction. Like I’ve mentioned before, Steve is still willing to give them a second chance because he knows there’s backstory there and he can sympathize.

The two that had it the worst were Natasha and Bruce.

Natasha, who straight up went out of commission when all of her heavily repressed trauma got dragged back to the forefront, isn’t really around for the scene where the twins switch sides. She comes in after the fact, when they’re already mid-fight, to find that the twins are fighting against Ultron with them.

Steve reassures her that the twins are on their side, and Natasha rolls with it.

She takes Steve’s word for it because she trusts Steve as much as she trusts Clint - absolutely and entirely.

You forget, these two just went through the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier together, where “everybody we know is trying to kill us.” Natasha and Steve had to trust in each other completely, it’s the only way they lived to see the end of that movie. Natasha’s trust in Steve is not reset just because the film title changed.

However the real key here is that Natasha’s trust in the twins is not complete.

She’ll trust the twins for this fight, because Steve said they were there to help, and then she’ll make her own call on whether or not she feels like forgiving them. This wasn’t Steve saying “I’ve cleared these two, I expect you to magically be okay with that.” It was Steve reassuring her that during this fight, their only attacker would be Ultron, and that the twins were helping to fight back.

In a battle situation, that’s all Natasha needs to know before her attention turns to saving people, because there is no time for a debate or questions during an all-out attack.

There is, however, a good amount of time that passes between the end of the Sokovia fight and the credits scene where we see Wanda with the other “new recruits,” and we are left to assume that something has been worked out between everyone because they all seem okay with each other now.

It is also a full year before we really see Wanda again, in Civil War, and the first thing we see is Natasha coaching her through a stake out, as a mentor.

Clearly there is no lingering animosity here.

As for Banner, well…

Bruce basically says that he could kill Wanda without remorse. He’s pissed, and rightfully so.

However, he ALSO doesn’t deny needing the twins’ help when fighting Ultron. He never says “we shouldn’t trust them” or “we shouldn’t let them come with us;” and Hulk flies off into space (literally) before Banner gets a chance to actually sit down and think about whether or not the twins should be allowed to join the Avengers.

In fact, the only one who straight up says that he doesn’t trust anything to do with the twins is Clint…

The only one who didn’t get affected by Wanda’s nightmares.

So I’m honestly not quite sure where you’re getting your argument from.

As far as I make it out, the people who got the nightmare treatment were aware that they were seeing their own memories and thoughts and fears played back to them. Wanda wasn’t showing them anything new, so most of them didn’t take the attack as anything personal, and in fact we see Natasha having a bit of a personal crisis over the not-so-great bits of her past that are being shoved back in her face for the second time since CA:tWS.

She’s not mad at Wanda for bringing it up, she’s mad at herself for being the way she was before Clint saved her.

Clint, who isn’t sure what the others saw and is watching everything from the outside, is pissed. He watched his friends suffer because of whatever the witch did to them, and he’s not only angry with her, but dead set on not forgiving or trusting her, either.

At least until she and her brother both save him, and he starts wondering if they might not be so bad after all.

”You didn’t see that coming.”

As for Wanda being in control of her powers, I would say it depends on what aspect of her powers we’re talking about.

In AoU she has been sitting in a cell for God knows how long, practicing the same four moves:

Move small solid object. Shield. Look through people’s heads and pull certain thoughts to the forefront. Throw her power around like an energy burst.

Of these four, by the time Civil War rolls around, we only ever see her use the first two.

Age of Ultron:

Civil War:

When she does this trick, she does it with great proficiency and incredible accuracy. She’s good at this one. Her shield has also improved to the point where she can multitask while holding it.

In Civil War, however, she’s picked up a number of new moves:

Levitation/flying with her powers. Moving non-solid objects like poisonous gasses. Forming a net with her powers to lift teammates. Manipulating large solid objects with her telekinesis. Manipulate object behavior.

However, we no longer see her using throwing her power directly at anyone anymore. She picks up objects to throw at them, or grabs them by a hand or foot and tosses them back, but she no longer throws the raw energy around.

She also doesn’t go into anyone’s heads.

Do you have any idea how easily she could have pulled something like this at at the airport battle? Re-routed team Stark on some wild goose chase while Team Cap all waltzed over to the jet and flew off with no problem?

Stark and Co. wouldn’t have even known what hit them until Team Cap were loooong gone.

But she doesn’t.

Because Wanda doesn’t do that anymore. She’s not that person anymore.

Even with Vision, she’s not going inside his head, she’s just changing his density - first to de-materialize him and make him let go of Clint, and second to make him so heavy that he fell through the floor.

Wanda doesn’t throw her raw powers at people anymore because it’s too dangerous and unpredictable, and she doesn’t go into anyone’s heads anymore because of privacy issues and “brainwashing” and the other negative connotations that come with it, even if it means taking the hard way out of a situation.

She’s changed up her whole fighting strategy.

That being said, I would argue that she is NOT in control of her powers as a whole.

She is in control of certain aspects of her powers to certain extents - namely the ones that she’s practiced repeatedly - but in the grand scheme of things, she really has no idea what she’s actually capable of, therefore she cannot control exactly what her powers will react like if she tries something that’s not on her list of “the eight tricks I’ve practiced for the past six months.”

Thus, Lagos.

She probably didn’t even realize that she could bubble that much raw kinetic energy into such a small space - she was just reacting to the fact that a bomb had gone off in the middle of a packed marketplace and she needed to do something or hundreds of people would have died…likely including everyone in the building, had the foundation gotten destroyed by the blast.

(And would you demons please stop saying that she murdered people in Lagos? I mean really. Do you consider it murder when firefighters can’t get everyone out of a burning building? Or when rescue workers can’t find everyone buried beneath earthquake rubble in time to save them? Or when ambulance workers can’t rescue everyone from the remains of an awful car wreck? Wanda was stopping a bomb from killing people by containing it, and couldn’t get it far enough away to save all of them before the bomb went off. She did not murder anyone.)

In the grand scheme of things, no, Wanda doesn’t know how to control her powers, because she’s not entirely sure just what her powers can DO.

She’s still learning.

I also understand where you’re trying to go with the “lightening the color scheme” angle, but I highly doubt that’s a “nefarious plot to trick the audience into thinking she’s good when she’s not” so much as it’s a stylistic choice to show that she’s in a better place now, both mentally and physically.

Her hair is not only lighter, but has far fewer tangled curls at the bottom, and sports two highlights at the bangs. This isn’t an attempt to portray her as “suddenly good now” so much as an attempt to make her look a bit less like an orphaned street rat. Her hair is clean and brushed and bright and with an actual style, much like Bucky’s hair was actually kept when we saw him in Civil War as opposed to Winter Soldier. It’s to show that she’s taking care of herself better now because she now has the means and mental presence to do so.

Case in point: Her hair appears lighter here than at the final battle. It’s all cinematic, to make her look more or less filthy as the scene requires.

As for the outfit, she’s wearing lighter clothing in that one picture because it’s summer and she’s trying to blend in. Just like how Natasha, who normally sports black, is dressed in pale colors and wearing very little makeup.

In many other scenes in the movie, Wanda retains the black/grey/red color scheme that she’s had going since AoU, such as in the knife clip I linked above:

Black clothing in a similar overall style (short dress, boots, and jacket) just with less heavy eyeliner because she’s grown up a little and is keeping herself a bit more maintained than before.

Claiming cinematic trickery here is really reaching for threads.

So, to wrap this incredibly long post up…

NO, Wanda is not, and never was, a villain.

Up until the truth is revealed, each party (the twins, and the Avengers) believes themselves fully in the right. When the truth does come out, it is revealed that to some extent, both parties are in the wrong.

Wanda is not conflicted about facing the Avengers because she’s fighting to protect innocent people from them. She becomes conflicted when it turns out that the Avengers weren’t fully to blame for what was going on in Sokovia. (Side-eyeing Stark, here.)

Wanda is neither villain nor anti-villain…

She’s the hero of her own side of the story.

Wanda and Pietro are both heroes, whose story - through the lies and manipulation of people claiming to be allies - intersected with that of the Avengers.

Case in point: these two are alone.

The other Avengers have left the area.

If they were really doing this to save their skin and not to help people, wouldn’t this be the ideal time to say something like “make sure you get on the ship before it leaves” or “as soon as the Avengers aren’t looking, we run” or “the minute the crisis is over, we turn on them?”

There is no reason for Wanda to lie in this situation.

This is why I argue that she was never truly a villain.

In fact I’d go so far as to say that these two are no more the villains of this story than the Avengers were the villains for them.

It was all a big misunderstanding.

Wanda and Pietro were only ever in this to help the people of Sokovia, and they got screwed by the lies and manipulation of the only adult influences they’ve had in their lives since they were ten.

The second that they found out Ultron’s real plan they tried to stop him, even going so far as to approach their enemies for help.

They both act selflessly to rescue civilians and even to rescue the Avengers in the fight for Sokovia.

Throughout the film Wanda and Pietro rather pointedly avoid all collateral damage where they can, and never intended to cause any harm to innocents in their quest for revenge.

(And because I know this is your main screaming point: Johannesburg was 300+ miles away from the shipyard. How was Wanda to know that Hulk was going to run over 300 miles to attack a city when all of her other victims went comatose when shown their greatest fears? It doesn’t logically follow that she would expect anything else, because only the audience knows that making Banner agitated enrages the Hulk, and Banner even says in the movie that Johannesburg was when the world saw the “real Hulk” for the first time. The destruction in Johannesburg was never Wanda’s intended outcome when she went after Banner so you really can’t treat that as intentional.)

In the end, they were willing to overlook their own lust for revenge in order to do the right thing.

And both of them were willing to die fighting to fix what they’d done wrong.

Wanda missed the escape boat because she went to finish off Ultron.

She is shocked when Vision comes back to save her, because at this moment she was entirely ready to die.

Pietro does die.

They were both willing to put their lives on the line to make what they’d done right, and Wanda just got lucky enough to get saved.

Because of all of the above reasons, I think we can firmly state that Wanda was never meant to be a villain in the MCU.

Although on that topic, let me ask you…what exactly do you think would have happened if the writers had decided to go your route? If they’d decided to make her the villain instead of going the redemption route?

She single-handedly takes out every member of Team Stark at the airport battle in Civil War. The only one who even managed to land a hit on her is Rhody, and he only did so by sneaking up behind her while she was preoccupied holding up thousands of tons of rubble, and shooting her point-blank in the back.

And all of that was Wanda being gentle and holding back.

If she was a villain - if she was actually going all out - would any of the Avengers even survive a fight against her?

Based on the way she disintegrated those robots with just a second of lost control, I severely doubt it.

You do not want her as a villain in any capacity. I guarantee you that.

That being said, by strict definition, no, Wanda is not an anti-villain.

But she’s not a villain either.

She’s a unique and complicated character, whose story was approached at a fairly new angle as far as script writing is concerned, and who managed to be both protagonist and antagonist at once.

There is not a doubt in my mind, however, that by the end of Age of Ultron, that girl was just as much of a hero as anyone else on that screen.

Chirpingtiger out.