#just plain old delusion

[nightowlstardust]

Might be just wishful thinking but

I really really hope that stolas never comes to know about blitz being sold to be his playmate 25 years ago. Or that blitz tried to sneak into his bedroom only to nick the grimoire.

Ok maybe that sounds wrong, and probably he is going to find out, but I hope that it happens atleast after they (maybe?) get together. Cause I know it would be very hard for stolas to digest such information, and I need to see blitz comfort him.

Gahhh i just can’t see my boy sad and depressed any more >:(

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[jaguarys]

Ultimately I think the craziest consequence of the SW sequels is that it's created a faction of people who have really and truly convinced themselves that the prequels are good. Honestly I respect it

[worldblight]

I'm like a goreblog poser. I look like I gorepost but really I just rb from my boyfriend. That thing is the only goreblog I follow

[sadfraudfrogs]

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[stariikis]

tell my fortune

synopsis ; the story of how you manage to get an attractive waiter's number... in the most unexpected way possible.

pairing ; waiter!nishimura riki x customer!reader genre ; fluff, first encounters wc ; 1100 notes ; to indulge MYSELF, riki will be aged down in this fic. like 16 years old.

When your friend recommended a Chinese restaurant to visit, you were expecting the reason to be exceptional food. Pretty foolish of you, one reason being, you were in Korea – another being, when has Yoo Jungyeong ever suggested visiting somewhere, if not to ogle at attractive boys impossible to pull?

The first thing you notice as she holds open the door for you to step inside is the fact that it’s a pretty modern, fancy restaurant, not typical of a traditional Chinese food chain. What are you expecting though, in Korea of all places? Along the city streets, everything screams modern. 

The second thing you notice when a waiter that has her making heart eyes – gross – leads you to a seat, is how young the waitresses and waiters seem. Some seem shy of eighteen, while some look like plain teenagers coming to earn a little extra pocket money during the holidays. You don’t judge them though; you’d do that too if you had the luxury of time. 

Today’s an exception from having your nose stuck in piles of homework and assigned reading. After all, within the first week of the holidays you finished almost everything, so you’re free to take a break when you wish. Another reason being, you wanted to catch up with Jungyeong. 

But not like this, her eyes shining as she gazes dreamily at a guy whose uniform nametag states, ‘Sim Jaeyun’. 

“Will you stop staring?” You hide behind the menus to save yourself the embarrassment. “I think they’re noticing.” 

“Fine,” she huffs, but the glaze over her eyes doesn’t dissipate. “He’s really cute, though.” 

“Did you bring me here to have a good meal or to stare at delusion three thousand?” You snap, shoving her copy of the menu towards her. She finally rolls her eyes and flips open the menu. 

She points to a steamed fish dish, “This. This is good.” 

And after she recommends practically the whole menu to you, she looks at you expectantly, pressuring you into making a quick decision. You blink, because it all looks pretty appetising to you, and decide on the first fish dish she showed you. Anyway, you’re too indecisive. If you don’t pick now, you might stay the whole night. 

Since Jungyeong has returned to conjuring up fantasies of the waiter Sim Jaeyun across the room, you raise your hand and grab the attention of a young waiter, who seems the same age as you. He appears nervous as he approaches you with a notepad and pen. Is this his first time working here? 

“What can I get you?” He grins awkwardly, and you have to admit. He looks pretty cute trying to maintain professionalism though he looks like he’s crumbling internally. Smiling kindly, you guide him through your order as gently as you can. As you read out your order, he seems to relax progressively, nodding along. 

Just as he’s about to run off to convey your order to the cooks, he bows and thanks you sincerely. For some reason, your stomach flips in excitement at this, lingering tingles in your chest as he darts off. 

Nishimura Riki, read the nametag. He’s Japanese working at a Chinese restaurant in Korea. 

“So,” Jungyeong waggles her finger in front of your face teasingly. “He’s cute, huh?” She drawls, obviously trying to prove her point. 

You don’t buy it. “He is cute,” — you admit, and your friend raises her eyebrows — “but I’m not going to daydream about him the whole time I’m here. Unlike a certain someone…” You reach out to flick her arm amiably. 

Ironically, even though you say this, as Jungyeong starts to ramble about her life recently, your line of vision inevitably travels to the back of the restaurant, where Jaeyun and Riki are chatting. They seem to be quite close, as Jaeyun pats Riki’s back and laughs. Against your will, you’re interested in the way they interact with each other. Scratch that, you’re interested in the way Riki looks when he’s smiling. 

Out of the blue, the young waiter glances up and meets your gaze, just as Jungyeong starts to catch on that you’re not paying attention. 

“Dude, what a hypocrite,” she scoffs, but you ignore her. Riki quirks an eyebrow at you playfully, as if asking you why you’re casually staring at him. You don’t know why but your heart skips a beat. 

For the next five minutes, all you can focus on is the way your cheeks are overwhelmingly warm and probably look a fiery shade of red. 

Even when your food arrives, you feel sick to your stomach and can only bear to have a few bites before clocking out. Jungyeong looks at you, half worried and half with a tilt of the head that asks, is she going crazy? 

Eventually, you have to ask for a takeout container because your friend clearly can’t finish the whole dish by herself. 

You just think that you need to get out of there as soon as possible, so when Riki himself runs over, handing you both a fortune cookie wrapped in plastic, it comes as a shock. His fingers linger over the snack as he passes it to you, and you swear he’s gazing into the depths of your soul. 

Oooookay, this is uncomfortable. Does he want me to open it in front of his face or… is he being creepy? Or — this is where you panic — is he telling me he was also uncomfortable when I was staring at him? Should I apologise? Do I say something? What does he want from me?

Luckily for the overthinker emerging from you, he makes an unwrapping gesture and smiles silently, as if affectiona– okay, that’s too much.

You take the cracker out the wrapper, and snap it in half as quick as you can. Anything to get you out of this awkward situation. 

A glance over the table shows that Jungyeong has opened hers already, and nothing seems to be out of the blue. So what is Riki trying to get at? 

When you tug the slip of paper from the cracker, you don’t know if you go completely pale or grow even redder. 

A phone number in black pen ink has been written over the paper in an evidently rushed manner. 

You look up at the young waiter, who just shrugs and giggles at how clueless you look. How… did he… huh…? 

As you leave the restaurant in a hurry (mostly because Jungyeong is borderline screaming on your behalf), you swear you catch Jaeyun giving Riki a thumbs up in the corner of your eye.

more of my works >

guys i'm back after like a month of an unofficial hiatus. sorry to leave yall hanging like that! i'll get back to regular updates soon, i promise lawl. hope you didn't forget the plot of yitr...

BTW THX FOR 300

[neos127]

WHY HER? (chapter two)

pairing. idol!jake x fem!fan!reader

synopsis. in the most cliche way, jake falls for a fan of his. y/n just has to decide if she’s able to handle being apart of his life.

notes. i was inspired by this one jake fan sign vid i saw…he’s absolutely insane

Y/N was sure she had never felt so nervous in her life. She had already talked to Sunghoon and Jungwon, feeling as if she were about to pass out. (Un)fortunately Jake was next, and Y/N could feel her throat closing up. She felt tingly as Jungwon kindly thanked the girl for her gift while holding her hands. He even sent an air kiss her way as she stood up from her seat.

Y/N had never been to a fan sign before, not wanting to feed her delusions even more. Whenever she visited South Korea, she was always bombarded by all of the kpop fan service she could partake in, something that wasn’t common back in New York. She refused to go to fan signs, feeling as if she would pass out, throw up, or become insanely delusional like those people she laughed at on twitter.

She had changed twice, in an outfit different from the one she posted online. She decided to go with a plain long sleeve shirt and a cute red skirt she had found online, hoping that it wouldn’t be too much. She put on light makeup and added some accessories to elevate her look. Y/N decided that if she were to attend this fansign just this once— she would allow herself to indulge in her fantasies and look good for the boys she adored. There was truly no harm in it for at least one day.

But when Y/N sat down in front of Jake, she nearly forgot what to say. How was it that the man was more beautiful in person? His features had always captured her attention but they were even more striking now.

“Oh my gosh…um…hi.” Y/N squeaked out, a nervous smile on her face. Jake smiled and greeted her back, offering his hand over the table after signing the album she brought. Y/N looked down at it with wide eyes before bringing both her hands forward to rest in his. She noticed the size difference instantly and had to hold back a scream.

“How old are you?” Jake asked, leaning forward. Y/N unknowingly clutched Jake’s hand harder, causing the boy to smirk slightly.

“I’m uh 19. I’m turning 20 this year actually. I’ll probably celebrate my birthday in Korea this year.” Y/N answered, trying to stop the word vomit that threatened to come out. Jake’s eyes seemed to light up at that and he began to play with her hands.

“Are you not from here?” He asked seemingly genuinely intrigued. Y/N had to convince herself that he acted like this with everyone before she had a heart attack.

“No I’m not. I live in New York but I often visit Korea to see my friends.” She answered, silently hoping that her face wasn’t showing any signs of nervousness. Jake pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he observed Y/N, trying to commit her face to memory. He wasn’t sure why she captivated him so much compared to the other fans he talked to earlier, but he also didn’t care at the moment either. There was just something about how adorable she looked, and the twinkle that appeared in her eye when he asked her questions.

When Y/N thanked him for being such an amazing performer and inspiration, he felt his chest tighten and his stomach flip. Compliments from enegenes always made him feel happy and appreciated, but this felt different— and Jake was in awe of how Y/N had a hold on him already.

Y/N then held up the Spider-man keychain she had bought for Jake, her hands shaking as he took it from her. He smiled wide, thanking her for bringing him something and grabbing her hand again. He suddenly paused, realizing the smell of the perfume she was wearing. It smelt of chocolate with a mix of vanilla…Jake had to make sure his composure didn’t slip even more.

“Your perfume smells really good.” He commented, nearly in the girls’ face. She smiled wide, embracing the blush that was definitely on her face.

“Thanks! I can’t remember what it’s called but-” Y/N was suddenly cut off by Enhypen’s staff. She had to move along to the next member since her time was up. Before she could fully stand up, Jake grabbed her wrist, bringing it to his nose to smell her perfume once more.

“Suits you.” He murmured before sending a wink her way. Y/N was sure she was about to pass out right there. On the floor. In front of all the members. She mumbled out a weak ‘bye’ before quickly moving over and sitting down in front of Heeseung, nearly tripping over her own feet.

Unfortunately, Jake never managed to leave her mind. Even when she went to sit down in front of Sunoo, or when she went out with her friends for dinner that night. Especially when she laid down to sleep that night. She swore she could still feel his hands touching hers, or the brush of his lips against her wrist when he smelled her perfume. Y/N groaned, burying her face into her blanket. That was exactly why she didn’t want to attend any fansigns.

previous | masterlist | next

taglist. @junityy @super-amberlynn @jvjsssnaa @dreamiesformula @deepdeancloudspy @syazzzlisa @nnana2 @hkkbrosdienagge @iheartjayke @armydrcamers @yeojeolmi @yelshin @yunville (it won’t let me tag some people :/)

©neos127

[monstierider]

Please tell me I'm not the only one who feels like Crimson flower did a terrible job of making Edelgard....not a villain

Like, I feel like IS sort of couldn't find a good way to justify siding with Edelgard to the player beyond liking her as a character and the only way the could sort of doing it was by reducing Rhea to near Duma levels of insane, but even then while I won't condone her actions I can understand why she lost it, from her perspective she just saw someone she allowed into her home, break into the burial site of her dead siblings with the intention of desecrating them and robbing their graves and then watched what is, from her sad, broken perspective, her own mother choose to side with the person trying to take all she has left of her family away from her, I too would lose it under those circumstances. And then there's Edelgard not even being very smart, like, does she really believe her troops would hear "the church has nukes" and not either, question why they only dropped the one on the one location and why only now or just....lose all morale??? And then there's the battle at the Tailtean plains and the good old conversation between Dimitri and Edelgard, "must you continue to conquer?continue to kill?!" "Must you continue to re-conquer? Continue to kill in retaliation?" Like.....it's like even she realises she has no moral high ground over him and is just trying some desperate redirection to not be the villain she knows she is. And also the entire "king of delusion" scene where Dimitri, in his final moments, swears to avenge everyone who died for her, who she killed, to avenge all his fallen friends and family who died because of her and her ambitions and she basically just calls him a nut job.

Like??? Did IS just....give up on trying to make Edelgard look good and just hope that off her fucking rocker Rhea and Edelgards tragic backstory would cover that up???

[caineinthecorner]

Languages (The Others)

★ Based on my language general hcs + the brothers' hcs.

Hi I am sleep deprived. Behold part two of my shitty hc delusions wooooo.

"Caine you missed some" yeah I'm lazy (+ don't know their characterization well enough). If you want to add hcs for the guys I skipped you can but in the meantime I'll go with the basic bitch options

Gentle reminder I make shit up. (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

★ Solomon.

Okay so like I said with Asmo he knows french (and they're both nasty with it)

Basically he rizzed up Asmo in french

Using the dude he was in based out of he also knows English (native probably), Welsh, German, full-ass Demon Tongue and like some latin for magic bs. Idk

(bcs the guy lived nearby those countries in ye old Europe(tm) and something something immortal so why tf not learn languages while at it)

(also of course he learned demon tongue. He wants to rizz up demons and what better way to do that)

He learned demon tongue from random demons and a lot of trial and error

Plus he knows japanese if we are under the pretense that mc is japanese.

So like Solomon tries to use language rizz to get close to you as the other human student in Devildom. So basically using the Asmo trick with you.

... He's kinda painfully obvious with it

(how tf did Asmodeus fall for this shit?)

If you don't speak any of the languages he is fluent in his ass will ABSOLUTELY pick 'em up and be like "hey I want to learn:)"

He uses language as a tool to get what he wants basically

No wonder him and Asmo get along

If you know a language that is not loquar-translatable and he speaks it as well prepare to get secret-talk'd a lot.

Not having people spying your convos is a incredibly valuable asset in Devildom

Especially since you're around the brothers almost 24/7 and they're fucking VIGILANT

Oh also he 100% knows that Asmo fakes being shit at English.

But he's a simp so 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠  ⁠)⁠ㄏ

★ Luke.

FUNNILY ENOUGH. Two things:

Yes he doesn't need Loquar to communicate with you since he's an angel BUT

For some reason (cough your heritage cough) he keeps messing up in which language speak to you with.

Angel instincts are telling him to just use whatever language with you but the thing is that You Don't Know Whatever Language

Which is odd because that's something he only does with fellow angels????

But you are human so

He doesn't think much of it. He's probably just confused because he's around mean demons! >:T

(His basic subconscious instincts are harder to control since he's low ranking and his Angel brain is going "You = angel = language doesn't matter")

But since he keeps somewhat messing up around you he decides to gesture to hell when talking to you just in case

so you get the gist through his mannerisms in case his words get fucky

His least favorite language ever is Demon Tongue. Even outside of Not Liking Demons he doesn't like how throat-y and intensive it is.

↑ that is a popular Angel opinion btw. Demon Tongue in general is just annoying to use for them and barely any Angels use it outside of in-the-moment communication with Devildom natives.

If you ask him his preferred language he'll say some form of Latin since it's the preferred language of most high ranked angels, as well as Michael's.

But it's actually English.

★ Simeon.

Since he is was a high rank angel, he doesn't mess up what language speak to you with. He has real good control of stuff like that that comes with experience and age.

(in fact he's very confused why Luke keeps messing up so bad around you but doesn't think much of it since Luke is technically still a fledgling)

I already said this but yeah his preferred language is Archaic Latin (shared it with Lucifer pre-fall).

Ever since Lucifer's fall he switched to plain English and that's the answer he'll give you if you ask.

Only Angel that isn't bothered speaking demon tongue and will do so at his own leisure.

If you try to learn the demon language he is unironically so helpful because he isn't a spiteful bitch like Lucifer and actually teaches you shit without throwing you into the wolves

In fact Simeon is amused as hell over the fact that Lucifer is making you learn the hard stuff first. That is so him.

He's like the good cop of the learning dynamic. Cool substitute teacher vibes

Simeon finds accents to be the cutest thing ever since it is an inherently odd concept for someone fluent in Everything Ever

He has (jokingly) cooed over Luci's accent when he speaks Latin nowadays. Lucifer is not at all amused.

★ Barbatos.

He knows every language.

... Yeah that's it that's the list

Look at me dead in the eyes and tell me this motherfucker does not speak Sumerian

Ofc he knows every human language ever. And Devildom's. He knows™.

Funniest thing is that he doesn't even need Loquar to talk to you. He just deadass speaks your language with full fluency and you Never Notice

You only notice one day while having a normal convo with him and then Diavolo walks in speaking full deadass gibberish somehow and you're like ????? and Barbatos says "oh apologies I forgot to apply Loquar to you here you go"

Like deadass he would fuck with you so hard when it comes to languages.

Do not go to this man for language advice he will teach you proper stuff in the most incorrect way possible

(Probably! Or probably not! It depends! On what? Who the fuck knows™!)

He's deadass a roulette of proper, legitimate advice or literal shitposting

He wrote the Voynich manuscript. It was a housekeeping journal he was keeping in a dead Devildom idiom that ended up in the human realm by accident

He didn't retrieve it solely because seeing humans go insane over it was funny as hell and he has a secondary copy anyway. That book has nothing relevant in it besides like two recipes.

He did go to check back on it once to write down a meat pie recipe Diavolo's father liked bcs he didn't have on the copy

Barbatos is the definition of "wtf what language was that" "yes."

He and Lucifer have random days where they just pick a language to speak to each other. It helps to maintain fluency.

Barbatos jumpscared Satan once by going, full ass unprompted mid convo, "Oh right you speak Tagalog."

He knows what languages everyone speaks like a white girl knows zodiac charts

★ Diavolo.

Ok so he probably knows English since it is Solomon's native and humanity's current universal(ish) language

Like of course he wants to communicate with humans! Of course he'll learn their language!!!

Unlike Barbatos and Lucifer who are very impressive Polyglots he's realistic in his language stuff. The more down-to-earth of the three

His English is hilarious

Not particularly because he says things wrong but his accent and tone just makes it sound incredibly funny

He sounds exactly like a dubbed-over superhero doing a friendship monologue At All Times

He is so earnest with it that you don't have the heart to explain why you're laughing

Anyhow fun fact:

Loquar for some reason translates what he says in Demon Tongue the most literal ass sense possible for literally no reason

Which is odd(tm) but mostly just funny as all hell

Everyone has been troubleshooting whatever the fuck happens to Loquar Ad Vos with Diavolo but no idea so far.

The phrase "have you tried unpapplying it and applying it again" has been uttered more than once unironically

The working theory is that since Diavolo is royalty and Loquar Ad Vos was created with the sampling of normal demons it works wrong on him since there's something different(tm)

Reverse engineering the Loquar spell to work on him has been in the works for a while. Loquar is drafted like shit since it is an old human-oriented spell (Basically like spaghetti code needing to be rewritten), so it proves a bit troublesome.

You later find that Diavolo speaks in a very uniquely pronounced manner

↑ Think of it like Devildom royalty has a very distinctive Way Of Speaking. Like an accent but also not. Probably magic related in some way(?)

"do you want to consume nourishment" ← Diavolo's ass getting mistranslated

So yeah Barbatos or Lucifer kinda have to lend a hand when you two communicate.

If you're English speaking then you two kinda communicate that way sometimes. You reassure him on his accent and help him along if he gets anything wrong.

(he's fluent-ish in Japanese as well if we are running in the assumption that the reason why MC's canonically japanese is because they needed someone who A) speaks a language translatable by Loquar Ad Vos B) is also a language Diavolo knows and C) is not of the same social background as Solomon)

He will get so unapologetically excited when you start learning demon tongue. You two can!!! Communicate even more!!!!!

Demons will be genuinely mortified if you gain Diavolo's accent while speaking demon tongue. Why does this random ass human speak like royalty ತ⁠_⁠ತ

Very (un)subtle way to tell everyone that you're besties/partner/whatever of the literal prince of Devildom.

Something something dragon being possessive something

[hdra77]

Hello, I just browsed your whole disarray AU tag and I think it's really cool. It's a little hard to tell what is it about but from what I can tell everyone is evil and corrupted for some reason (except for NSH?) There was an old ask talking about Pebbles and NSH's friendship, and I wanted to ask if you could tell more about that their friendship in this AU is like if you feel like it

Hello anon!! Thank you so much for taking your time to look into my au that means a lot to me!! 💗💗 sorry if some parts may be a bit confusing lol ive had pmvs planned to explain the plot better but thats been on the back burner for a while

To explain it simply, the triple affirmative occurred except that its something that could possibly make their kind turn on against each other.

Triple affirmative is a type of virus that spreads throughout the iterator's system and they would slowly rot on the inside as time passes. And the process is very very painful imagine your insides getting fried and there is nothing you can do about it but to lash out at others and infecting your kind in a desperate attempt to dull down the excruciating pain.

Basically this virus would just straight up kill them in the end it would keep on infecting their system until they shut down and collapse. Because of this others finds a way to search for the cure and some others accepts this fate.

Soo not everyone in the au are evil! Atleast for the first half of the plot.

All of the cast would have atleast one or two major flaws in them and it depends if you see their actions justified or just plain right evil.

Focusing on the early timeline where pebbles wasnt infected yet. If you noticed some of the pebbles asks recently the sign that this takes place before his corruption is his white eyes and sometimes seen with his golden irises!

Not exactly sure where im going with this lol but explaining more about pebbles and nsh's friendship:

Pebbles met sig through suns and he only grew to tolerate NSH because in his own perspective, taking in the false belief to see the image of his administrator infront of him instead of his friend is his way of coping from the abandonment of his creators. Which isnt..a good way to start a friendship if he only treated sig as a manifestation of someone else honestly

Slowly,but eventually sig managed to get pebbles to let him show him around outside his can and encouraging him to explore the places together and this was enough for pebbles to snap out of his delusion and see the iterator in front of him. NSH, the real him. not just a tool for him to cope with.

They became close, having a supportive friend that always pulls him out of his hole and encouraging him to have a more positive take in life despite the dying surroundings around them that makes it harder for pebbles to even believe that theres something beautiful in a world who wants to die. This is basically just a opportunistic friend and the pessimistic friend. NSH isnt always that opportunistic type of guy though, even after the ancients left the entire ecosystem in destruction he still finds beauty in things and he shows pebbles signs of life seeping through the cracks still finding its way back to reclaim the dying world.

Their friendship became more strained right after pebbles got in contact of his sister once again. Pebbles had become a lot more defensive and pushing others aside until his disappearance and the last time he had been in contact was with suns. This reason tear their friendship apart especially how sig suspects that suns had been keeping secrets from him and that they could even be involved in his disappearance.

So in an attempt to search for pebbles, sig sent hunter to investigate pebbles' superstructure. And it all goes from there

I may have gotten carried away like most of the time! But thats a simple explanation of how their friendship came to be! Friendship lore !! Hope this clears things up 💕 if you got any questions just ask me!

[stupendousfoxthing]

I think the shipping has reached a fever pitch. jikookers realize the truth, and they cant deal. I think this needed to happen, they will work themselves into a tizzy and then we will see whether they accept reality or fall deeper into delusions

Well. 😂

Note that this message was from before episode 3. I hadn't commented on the show much leading up to it, but the handful of times I did I said it's going to be a case of "be careful what you wish for" because I knew it wasn't going to be what Jkkrs wanted it to be. How did I know that? Because Jkk aren't in a relationship like they want. And if you focus a whole eight episodes of a show on them that is going to be abundantly clear. No creative editing, no matter how much some hype the company's abilities, is going to erase what is plain as day in all of their interactions. The same reason they couldn't and wouldn't make an entire eight episode series focusing on Taekook. The Jkkrs that are still around made it through all of the solo era Taekooking so far by sustaining themselves on years old content and the promise of this show. At first they convinced themselves the trip during Jungkook's Seven promotions was private and romantic. Even though we could all see they had cams and microphones on. They did the same thing with the Japan trip. Then the show is announced (of course we were right about that). So then they convince themselves they were documenting something romantic. The best thing for them would have been to not release the show at all and let them live in that fantasy, for a little while longer anyway. But this is how it was always going to turn out. A lot of the ones that have stuck around are misconstruing everything they can to find some hope. I was just scrolling through Twt and saw they're sexualizing Jimin lying on the floor sick with some Alpha Jungkook prowling around him (while a team of staff watches from like 20 ft away btw). It's so gross. But this is all they have left. I'm curious about where it all goes from here.

[lovingrosewho]

Grudges

So here we go again: many many years ago (around 2017), I wrote this Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader! fanfiction, I never published it ‘cause I was always making corrections and re-reading it, I tried to publish it around 2019 I think, but then I lost that tumblr account… anyways. After all these years, I bring it to you again, with no new corrections, just myself from 2017 speaking/writing. Hope you like it!

MULTICHAPTER

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader!

Rating: T

Word count: 4128

Summary: the BAU is investigating a series of murders in your hometown, and you’re right in the middle of it, but Dr. Spencer Reid takes a particular liking in you.

Warnings: usual tv series stuff (absent father, missing relative, murder and crime scene descriptions)

(set after season 8)

It was just another day at the BAU, Penelope had just called everyone into the conference room to explain the next case.

“Delaware. Three victims. First victim was killed two weeks ago, his name was Adrien Sanders, he was 57 years old, 5’7 feet tall; second victim was killed almost a week ago, Philip Moore, 56 years old, 5’9 feet tall; and third victim, Dennis Barnes, was killed yesterday, he was 59 years old, also 5’9 feet tall. All three were males, and as you can see, with similar physical features” she explains pointing with a laser to the pictures “Although, they were shot in different places; Sanders was shot in the stomach, Moore on the neck and the right leg, and Barnes was shot several times in… pretty much everywhere” García says, getting goosebumps from the images shown.

“He’s escalating, acting out of rage. Are there any connections besides the physical similarity between the victims?” Morgan asks.

“None, apparently. Sanders was a salesman, he was murdered in Pike Creek, getting out of a bar at night, Moore was a lawyer, killed in plain daylight, near his house in Glasgow, and Barnes was shot at his job, a car factory in Wilmington. No witnesses”.

“I believe we’ve got ourselves an unsub who uses his victims as surrogates for someone else due to the extreme resemblance they present. We’ll keep discussing it on the plane. Wheels up in 30” Hotch declares.

“There’s no evident pattern on the map, it just seems like the unsub picked… random locations” Reid says frowning while looking at the map, tracing lines on it.

“If he’s using his victims as surrogates, wouldn’t it be possible that these men are just victims of opportunity? Maybe the man who killed them is in some kind of delusion that they are who he really wants to kill, they cross paths with him, looking almost, or exactly like his target, and then… that’s it. They’re gone”. JJ says.

“Why are we assuming he’s a man?” Rossi questions.

“That’s a good point…” Spencer speaks “Nothing makes it look like it… this unsub… it doesn’t look like he had a special or knowing management of a gun given the places where he shot his victims, he didn’t use his hands, so there are no traces on the bodies, there’s no signature, no murder weapon, no sign that it was personal, there are no witnesses… there’s no way we can know if it’s a man or a woman”.

“Then we’re back at square one” Morgan concludes “We can’t move forward if we don’t even know if the killer is a male or a female ‘cause we’ve got nothing else, no signature, no nothing”.

“Of course we have something: victimology” Hotch points out “Try to stop looking for the unsub directly, start looking for the next victim, who fits the description and how could he be connected to the unsub. When we land, Reid and I will speak to Delaware authorities to find out what else they can tell us about the case, Rossi and Morgan, go to the last crime scene and let us know what you can tell about this last murder, JJ, go talk to the families of the victims, see what they can tell you about them, if they have any suspicions of someone who could’ve killed their relatives, and if they know of any connection at all with the other victims”.

“You got it” JJ assures.

“We’ll meet you again at Wilmington’s offices”.

While the BAU is busy trying to catch the killer in your town, you’re busy going to work riding your bicycle at the same time you brush your teeth.

You get to the flower shop almost half hour late and start giving Irene, the old lady you work for, explanations as to why you are late, she just looks at you all messed up and laughs, telling you it’s fine since it’s the first time you’re late and that it is no big deal.

You sigh, trying to calm your nerves. You stayed up pretty late last night, waiting for Connor’s text, letting you know he was okay. He’s been doing that for the past couple of weeks he’s been missing. At first you wondered if it was really him, he must’ve guessed that, because he sent you a voicenote, telling you not to worry, saying he needed to clear his mind, apologizing for his behavior… since then, he had been texting you everyday at the same hour every night, but last night, he didn’t text you until 4 a.m.

You figured it was normal, after meeting with your father again, who you hadn’t seen in your 25 years, until then.

You think about all of that while arranging all of the flowers on the counter and changing the signboard from “CLOSED” to “OPEN”, when you do that, you sigh again, sitting behind the counter, pulling a book out of your bag, waiting for the doorbell to ring, indicating you have a customer.

It takes less than 5 minutes for it to ring, which is weird. You frown without taking your eyes off of your book until you’re done reading that sentence. You look up with your best smile and ready to work, when you see your dad standing on the doorway. You roll your eyes and pinch your nose bridge on that precise instant, sensing an oncoming migraine.

“What do you want?” you ask, not raising your voice so Irene doesn’t get startled.

“I told you. I want to make peace with you. And your brother” he says, smiling. What a hypocrite.

“Sir. I’m gonna need to ask you to get out” you say, still not raising the volume.

“(Y/N)…”

“I told you that day at the coffee shop… neither me, or Connor, are going to make peace with you… you weren’t here… ever… the few things I know about you, are that you used to beat Connor and my mom up, and that you left the second I was born, how am I supposed to forgive you uh? Tell me” you rant.

“I told you, I am truly sorry”.

“No you’re not… and even if you are… it is not enough. Look, sir, I’m going to ask you to leave again, if you don’t, or if I see you again, I’m gonna call the police and accuse you of harassment, understood?” you state, voice firm and impassive. He looks at you, surprise in his eyes, but nods and turns around, opening the door.

“If you ever change your mind… I’m renting a small apartment here in Wilmington, in front of Stapler Park” he says before getting out and start walking.

“Screw you” you whisper, getting back to your book, when Irene comes to stand behind you.

“Your old man?” she inquires with her Alabamian accent.

“Nah” you say, not removing your eyes from the page you’re in “He’s not my anything”.

A couple of days went by, the team was at Wilmington's offices, discussing the case all over again after each of them had researched enough but came up clean.

"JJ what did you come up with?" Hotch interrogates her, frustrated about not getting anywhere near catching the unsub.

"Not much, I mean... I’m trying to make connections but... the three victims were pretty much... average Joe's... Adrien Sanders was out drinking with a couple of friends, nothing unusual according to his ex wife, Philip Moore was supposed to come home to his son and wife, he was only a couple of blocks away from his house, and Dennis Barnes was working on fixing some car engine, according to his coworkers. Nothing out of the ordinary, no leads..."

"Okay then, let's start thinking, if they're surrogates, who are they surrogates for?" Hotch follows up.

"Could be an ex husband?" Rossi suggests.

"Or perhaps it would be more likely to be an abusive relative?" Morgan thinks.

"Statistically yeah, 3.3 million American children are exposed to domestic violence in their homes each year, 45 to 70% of the same number of children who are exposed to domestic violence are also victims of physical abuse, because of the trauma, they have higher risks of alcohol/drug abuse and juvenile delinquency" Reid states, almost like quoting it from a book.

"The victims were 56, 57 and 59 years old, which means we're looking for someone between the ages of 25-30" Rossi says until Reid comes in again.

"Actually, I think we should consider 25-35 or more, statistics show that it is more likely to suffer from domestic violence when they come from an unwanted pregnancy, which means..."

"Teenage parents" JJ guesses.

"Exactly... we shouldn't even dismiss someone who is 40 years old" Reid assures.

"Okay then what are we looking for? Males or females who suffered from domestic violence, delusional, probably with a criminal record..." Hotch starts.

"Kids who suffer this, don't usually have social skills nor education" Rossi interrupts.

"I think it's time we give the profile" Hotch declares getting out of the conference room.

"We're looking for males or females between the ages of 25-40 years old, who suffered from domestic violence, they're more likely to have a criminal record, no social skills, and barely any or no education at all" Hotch says to the authorities who are present in the room.

"This unsub doesn't know how to manage his anger, he uses his victims as surrogates to what we think might be an abusive relative" Morgan informs.

"He or she might as well be delusional, he kills his victims because he thinks he saw his real target. The victims he's looking for are males from 55-60 years old, with a fair complexion, dark hair, and about 5"9 feet tall. When you relieve this information to the press, let them know the characteristics of the victimology, in case someone knows anyone who has this specific features. Thank you" Hotch concludes before getting back to the office with the rest of the team to call Garcia.

"Ready to act, sir" she answers.

"Garcia we need you to check reports from children who suffered from domestic violence in the estate of Delaware, more specifically in the cities of Pike Creek, Glasgow and Wilmington in the last 40 years" Hotch demands.

"Your wish is my command sir, and... oh... I've got 17,334 results..."

The team keeps trying to crosscheck results for a while, but none fit the profile.

"Maybe they weren't even born here" Rossi says, frankly exhausted.

The phone rings and JJ answers.

"Yeah... could you give me his name? Barry (Y/L/N)... okay, thank you, what about an address? That's okay, thank you ma'am" JJ hangs up and looks at the team "Someone fits the description of the victims".

"Garcia, could you look for a man named Barry (Y/L/N) please?" Hotch asks.

"Right... he is 57 years old, got married in Washington D.C... and... oh my god..."

"What is it babygirl?" Morgan questions, worry in his voice.

"It's just... there are... several anonymous reports of domestic violence... and... he has a daughter. (Y/N) (Y/L/N)".

"What can you tell us about her?" Hotch interrogates.

"She is 25 years old, lives here, on the city of Wilmington, she has no social media handles, but... something's not right".

"What do you mean?" JJ says.

"She doesn't fit the profile even though her father does fit the victimology. She went to kindergarten and the first year of elementary school at Washington D.C, then she continued studying but here in Delaware, graduated from college with honors from the University of Delaware, with a degree in fine arts."

"What about a criminal record?" Morgan inquires.

"None, she's... perfect..." Garcia says, giving up.

"Okay, thanks Garcia" Hotch says and hangs up, frustrated again "It doesn't matter that she doesn't fit the profile, we should still check her out, see what she can tell us about her father. Reid, I need you to take care of that, while the rest of us try to figure out if something went wrong with the profile".

"Why just me?" Spencer frowns.

"Because you're closer to her age, and given the facts Garcia gave us about her, she sounds pretty similar to you, maybe you can get her to tell you something relevant" Aaron tells him. Spencer doesn't look so comfortable going on his own but agrees at the end, when he's about to leave the conference room Morgan yells at him.

"Hey kid! Just wrap it up!" he says mocking him and starts laughing, the whole team starts giggling, except for Hotch who only looks at him and shrugs. Spencer's cheeks turn red and he rushes to get out of Wilmington's offices.

Meanwhile, you get home from the flower shop, still no sign from Connor.

You go to your room, dodging the canvas and cans of paint so you can change into something more comfortable when there's a knock at the door. You close your eyes and frown, waiting to hear Connor's voice.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" a man says through the door "I’m... Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI, could you please open your door?".

Panic starts flooding you when the thought of Connor being in trouble pops up.

You walk slowly to the door and open it, revealing the most beautiful man you've seen in your entire life. Spencer is taken aback by your beauty as well, he looks at you in shock, as if he was expecting someone else.

"Are you...?" he starts.

"Yes" you interrupt “Uh... come in please".

When he enters the small house, the first thing he notices is a huge amount of books spread all over the place, you start picking them up and trying to pile them somewhere where they don't get in the way.

"I'm so sorry" you apologize "I wasn't planning on having any visits".

He giggles softly "It's okay" he says, helping you pick up the ones on the couch, leaving them on a table near it.

"Would you um...? Like some coffee? Or tea or water or... something?" you ramble.

"Coffee is fine, thank you".

You bring two mugs of coffee to the table in front of the couch, along with sugar and milk in case he’d like to pour some. You sit next to him, holding your cup between your both hands.

"So... how can I help you?" you finally ask.

"I'm with the BAU... the uh... the Behavioral Analysis Unit, we... profile the unsub... unsub stands for unknown subject... we-uh-we are investigating the recent murders that take place here in Delaware" he explains.

"Oh... okay" you say, still not understanding how can you help them.

"Do you... do you know this man?" he asks, showing you a picture of your father, you look at it, not even taking it to get a closer look.

"Yes, he's the son of a bitch who abandoned my family the day I was born" you whisper, holding your cup more forcefully than necessary.

He looks at you with a look you can't decipher.

"There are... several anonymous reports of domestic violence... I was wondering if... I could ask you a few questions about it, about your life in general" when he says this, it hits you.

"Are you considering me a suspect?" he scratches the back of his head, bowing it down.

"Your father... matches the victimology, and even though you don't fit the entire profile, we shouldn't dismiss any possibilities... I just... I want to know a bit more about you and your family, that's all, I'm not assuming anything".

"What do you want to know?" you murmur.

"What do you remember about your father?"

"Nothing. I told you. He left the day I was born, my mother died 6 years after that".

"What...? What do you mean? Who raised you then?" he looks surprised. You thought he would know that part of your life if he already knew who your father was.

"My brother of course".

He stays quiet for a couple of minutes, staring at you.

"I didn't know you had a brother" he confesses "What's his name?"

"Connor" you look down at your, now cold, cup of coffee, and take a sip.

"Can you tell me more about him?" he asks politely.

"Well... we were both born in Washington D.C... my mother had him when she was 18 and my father was 20, it was an unwanted pregnancy... for all I know, he used to beat my mother up, and Connor as well, when he tried to defend her. 12 years later, my mother got pregnant again… the day I was born, my father left, so my brother started working as a carpenter's assistant... after dating several guys, abusive, just like my dad, my mom got into a severe depression and died when I was 6 years old... by then my brother was already 18, and he had saved up enough for us to move here to Delaware... we've been living here ever since" you explain, the images of your mother, lying dead on her bed tormenting you again.

"So your brother... he worked and studied at the same time?" he questions.

"No... he... he couldn't afford to keep us both in school, he wasn't even able to finish elementary school but... he made sure I went to and finish college. He raised me... as if I was his own daughter" you say, feeling kind of guilty.

“What about his social life?” he asks, worry starting to show up on his face.

“Neither of us has what you would consider a social life… I’m always buried either on my books or my paintings, if not, I’m working on the flower shop, and he’s always buried on his work… we have each other, and that’s quite enough, when we come home we have dinner together, talk about our day, watch a movie or something… it’s… pretty much just the two of us against the world. It’s always been like that” you acknowledge, a single tear streaming down your cheek.

Spencer looks at you almost with pity and cleans the tear with his thumb mindlessly, even though he’s not too keen of physical contact, it just seems appropriate. The gesture sends butterflies to your stomach.

“(Y/N)… listen to me carefully… I need you to tell me where your brother is”.

“What?” you exclaim, fear coming out of your voice “You think he did this? No. Spencer… no, I’m sorry but that’s not possible. You don’t know him. He wouldn’t… no… the fact that the victims are similar to my father is just a coincidence, Connor is just… not capable of this… I mean…” you ramble with your voice cracking at the end.

“(Y/N)” he stares at you, looking directly into your eyes, it is as if he can see right through you “Where is he?”

“I don’t know!” you shout bursting into tears “He disappeared two weeks ago”.

“Why didn’t you report him missing?”

“’Cause he’s been sending me texts every night, letting me know he’s okay! I figured… we saw our father again… after 25 years without seeing him, he found us… I thought… I thought it was normal that he wanted some time alone…”

“What’s his phone number?” he asks, pulling out his own cellphone, dialing a number “Garcia, I need you to run a name for me and track a number”.

“Okie dokie” a woman says at the other end of the line “Shoot”.

“Connor (Y/L/N). He’s (Y/N)’s brother. I just sent you the number”.

“Alright, let me do my magic… mmmh… oh. Wow. This is weird. I’ve got nothing”.

“What do you mean you’ve got nothing?” Spencer says, raising his voice.

“He’s not registered. At all. Not even a birth certificate. And the cellphone’s off”.

“He was never registered” you inform “Our parents never considered it important, so...”

“Where does he work?” Spencer cuts you off in a desperate way, you give him the address of the truck company “(Y/N), I need to go with the team. Will you be okay on your own?”

You nod slightly “Just… call me when you find him… please” you plead, still sobbing.

“Yes. I promise. I will. Thank you” he says reaching for the doorknob “(Y/N)… please be careful. Connor is delusional… please, lock the doors and windows... and stay safe” after telling you this, he leaves in a hurry, leaving his cup of coffee intact on top of the table.

You sit on the couch, laying down slowly, you close your eyes. You fall asleep crying, wishing that when you wake up, everything going on around you is just a nightmare.

Spencer joins the team when they’re about to leave Wilmington’s offices to go to your brother’s workplace, the moment he hops onto the van, the whole team starts bombing him with questions.

“Reid, what did (Y/N) tell you?” Hotch inquires while driving.

“Her father left when she was born, her brother is 12 years older than her which means he’s 37, their father used to abuse Connor and her mother… the anonymous reports of domestic violence must’ve been done by him, but no one ever did anything. They saw their father two weeks ago”.

“That must’ve been the stressor” Rossi affirms.

When the team gets to Connor’s workplace, they don’t find him, but they do find his boss.

“Michael Turner?” Hotch asks a bald man approaching them, showing him his badge “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is my team, we’re with the FBI investigating the murders that take place here in Delaware”.

“How can I help you?” Mr. Turner asks unsurely.

“We’re looking for Connor (Y/L/N), I believe he works for you”, Michael laughs ironically.

“Not anymore” he says “That kid hasn’t come to work for days, the last time I saw him, he had to drop some packages in Pike Creek and Glasgow, when you find him, tell him he’s fired”.

“Mr. Turner, why did you hire Connor in the first place if he had no identifications?” Spencer interrogates.

“’Cause he was just a boy… just 18, having to take care of his 6 year old sister… I took him under my wing, how could I not? But for what I see, this is the payment I get” he exclaims angrily while turning around “Excuse me gentlemen, but I have work to do”.

“Thank for your time” Aaron says, turning back to the team “Where else could Connor be?”

“If he’s been looking for a specific target, that could be his endgame” JJ suggests.

“We need to know where his father lives currently, if he’s delusional about people who look like him, his father is his endgame” says Hotch.

“We need to be fast, he hasn’t killed anyone in days, that could mean he already knows where his father lives, I’ll call Garcia” Morgan decides and dials the number “Hey, talk to me babygirl”.

“My chocolate thunder, what can I do for you?” she answers.

“I need you to tell me where Barry (Y/L/N) currently lives”.

“Okay let me check, he… oh no. He just rented an apartment in front of Staple Park, here in Wilmington, I’m sending you the complete address right now”.

“Thanks Garcia, we’re on our way ” Hotch indicates, turning the siren on and starting the engine of the SUV.

When they arrive to Barry (Y/L/N)’s apartment, they discover he is just fine, watching TV on the livingroom.

“Can I help you?” he asks standing up, clearly mad about some stranger breaking into his house, his voice is hoarse from drinking.

“Mr. (Y/L/N), we’re with the FBI, have you seen your son Connor (Y/L/N)?” Hotch asks annoyed by the man in front of him.

“My son?” he chuckles “I don’t think my son will want to see me ever again”.

“He hasn’t talked to you? Threatened you?” Morgan inquires.

“No, but who did threat me, actually, was his sister” the team notices right away that he said ‘his sister’ instead of ‘my daughter’. Barry rolls his eyes “She said she’d accuse me of harassment if I came near her ever again”.

“She’s not our unsub” Reid claims abruptly.

“We know that, Reid” Hotch tells him, dismayed by his sudden behavior “Mr. (Y/L/N), please don’t hesitate on calling if something strange happens”.

“Stranger than a bunch of FBI agents breaking into my apartment?” he huffs “Yeah, okay, I will”.

The team gets out of the house, confused by the pattern Connor has been following.

“He hasn’t killed anyone else, that can just mean that he’s looking for his endgame, the one who made it imposible for him to live the life he wanted or deserved” Rossi intervenes.

“Unless…” JJ starts “Unless his father isn’t his endgame”.

“Who else could it be?” Morgan exclaims, raising his eyebrows.

“(Y/N)” Reid says, running towards the SUV, followed by the rest of the team.

Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

[spadecentral]

⚔️ Betrayal of the Heart | Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

>> requested: no >> a/n: omg happy birthday @love-thanatopsis!!!!!! ur old now but i still love ya /p

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: sebek must choose between the love of his life and the fae prince >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): betrayal

Sebek never believed Lilia whenever he told him, "One day, you will make the hardest decision of your life."

He had always responded with, "Nonsense! I will always side with Wakasama, through thick and thin!"

"What if you find something more important than Malleus?" Lilia would ask.

"Nothing could be more important than Wakasama!" Sebek's young mind filled with delusions could never let him see other than his career.

Oh, how wrong those words turned out to be.

Sebek never thought that you, a plain, ordinary, everyday, basic human could amount to something more to him than Malleus Draconia. And yet you did.

Being blinded by duty was one thing, but blinded by love... being blinded by love was harder for Sebek to deal with. When he and you had just begun dating, it was obvious at how he loathed himself.

He had thought to himself, how could I become Wakasama's best night if I cannot keep my priorities straight?

He was always distanced in your relationship. He was, until Malleus was told.

"Wakasama, I have to inform you of something," Sebek said, standing next to you with the slightest blush on his cheeks.

"Yes, Sebek?" Malleus stood, an expressionless look on his face.

"..." Sebek felt his words catch in his throat. He was afraid of Malleus not approving. Suddenly bowing, he yelled "I AM DATING THE PREFECT, WAKASAMA! I AM SORRY FOR KEEPING THIS A SECR—"

"Sebek," the fae prince's voice cut off the yelling boy. "I approve of your choice."

Sebek had never felt more joy in his life.

But times of joy are not always persistent. And in an all-time high of oerblots happening, Sebek should have known that Malleus overblotting was bound to happen.

As the green-haired male stood in the middle of the rubble from Diasomnia, he knew that this was the time Lilia was talking about. He knew whatever words he spoke next would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I apologize, Wakasama." Sebek watched as your eyes widened in joy and surprise. He would never forgive himself. "I apologize for not having my priorities in order."

And his heart shattered in a million pieces as he watched your expression morph into one of despair. But a knight must always protect the heir to the throne.

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @ch3lun | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @ruggiethethuggie | @v-anrouge

[headspace-hotel]

I'm probably gonna regret attaching my name to this but I slept on it and I'm still really upset but now more coherent (so please delete this if it's unwelcome).

First of all I'm really sorry you're dealing w this shit. I hope you're taking care of yourself rn.

Second of all.... holy fuck Inneskeeper has handled this horribly. I'm trying to extend the benefit of the doubt and say he just needs time, we all do, but it's very hard when he's been acting as though a day is enough time for everyone to get over the fear he spread.

It's really upsetting to see him bring up both his schizophrenia and his career as reasons why he was upset without ever actually uttering the words "I'm sorry, I was wrong." without needing to read between the lines.

It's a really concerning trend I've noticed reappearing now that actual celebrities and just plain old popular users are becoming more open with their mental health, that "I was having a psychotic break/I was having a manic episode/I was blah-de-blah" somehow taking the place of an actual apology. As if explaining it means you no longer have to take action or responsibility.

Especially given he was bringing up his profession during all this. As a professional especially he has a responsibility. I know "this is tumblr" but this is TUMBLR. People don't fact-check. You have sway. Especially as a professional.

He could've made the post unrebloggable, but if he did I haven't seen it. He could've pinned a post that actually contained information/a retraction/a quick apology and explanation, instead we got "I'm taking a break". He edited the post, but given part of his defense was that reblog chains are uncontrollable an edit you would not see unless you clicked back to his blog is...

I'm really hoping that once he comes back he'll say something. Because I know parasocial relationship and all that but I really did respect him, as someone transgender and with some of my specific mental illnesses in a field I'm deeply interested in.

But now I'm just... tired. He spread that same cycle of panic and delusion to everyone who read that post. Here I was thinking that I just got my dog back from the vet and now she and everyone else I love was going to die, that the apocalypse was coming.

Until I did the googling he as an actual ecologist did not do. As if me taking a tumblr post and freaking is less acceptable than him taking a twitter post and freaking.

I don't want to cancel him or bully him. I don't doubt that he's gotten some ableist nonsense, because the internet sucks. But he really hurt a lot of people and did a lot of damage. All I want is him to plainly say "I'm sorry, I did it because [x/y/z] but it was still wrong and I hurt people. Here is some actual information. I'm going to log off." Without a billion asterisks.

And honestly maybe apologize for siccing people on you but frankly given how hard my opinion of him has tanked I'm not gonna hold my breath.

I'm fine. The block button is a wonderful thing.

My feelings are mixed. Yes, I see that it would be terrifying to have your mental illness warp your perception of an event, but...you're not the only mentally ill person on Earth, and it's no less terrifying to be triggered into an episode by false information.

I have been asked by several followers to trigger tag #unreality because that kind of thing really messes with them. And the post was framed in a particularly triggering way—encouraging conspiratorial thinking by saying that there's a "media blackout" and that the official sources are downplaying the severity.

The post is still circulating as of this morning, and the misleading version is still hitting people's dashes and suckering people in. Why would you not just make it unrebloggable?

I don't know. I really don't know what to think of the whole thing.

The Twitter OP makes me honestly furious, claiming that "the cops" "blew it up" when it was first responders putting their lives in danger to stop the burning train cars from exploding. It's so frustrating to see people acting like they're calling it a "controlled burn" to cover up idiotic mismanagement. The crews that responded to this accident at great potential risk to their lives don't deserve to be called cops and slandered for making the best decision they could have possibly made.

In general it's worrying how folks on social media are responding—by encouraging paranoia and mistrust by attributing malice or idiocy to the people trying to manage the accident.

Folks say "fuck cops" but they can't distinguish cops from firefighters and hazardous materials crews working to save lives. That's scary to me.

I don't think we know enough yet to ascertain the causes of the accident, but I want to caution against looking for a specific party to blame as being at fault, because...these things can happen even when we do everything right. As long as we use these hazardous chemicals to make things, this is always a possibility.

And it's not necessarily a "preventable" failure of society that we make and use PVC, either. One of the causes of how widespread plastics are is that they are genuinely useful materials with properties that no other materials have. PVC pipe is what probably makes the plumbing in your house. Before PVC, there was copper, which is incredibly expensive, has a tendency to burst with temperature changes, and corrodes and reacts with various chemicals.

And the sad fact is, environmental disasters like this happen a lot. Many of them worse than this.

Not too far from where I live, there was a case where tons of radioactive waste were dumped into a municipal landfill. This radioactive waste was being handled by workers who didn't know what it was and had no protection. This was a case of malicious dodging of regulations. Mining coal creates radioactive and toxic waste that is constantly mismanaged. I was doing reports on local environmental news for my geology class a while back and many of the coal mines in Eastern Kentucky have a hundredfold violations of environmental and safety regulations, and companies usually dodge responsibility.

I hope this incident inspires people to think and talk about environmental regulations and rights of workers in the rail industry. What with the railroad strikes going on, I think it's worth considering that this is why we need to look out for the welfare of rail workers—you want the people handling the shipment of hazardous chemicals to be well rested and well protected.

[thetommoway-oioii]

https://www.tumblr.com/thetommoway-oioii/756276006800736256/babe-your-claiming-a-fantasy-name-as-yours-do-not

I would get yourself ready for more of this unfortunately. There are a couple people on tumblr who have found themselves in bt group chats and are passing along what’s going on in that side of the fandom.

They said the over all vibe is defeat and annoyance because nothing has gone how they thought it would. And they are absolutely livid over Lou not engaging with them anymore. Oliver never acknowledging them. The show not promoting Lou to main like they thought he would be. And that the bt stans were planning to massively increase their negative and hateful comments toward buddie fans this coming week as “payback” because it’s somehow all our faults they twisted reality into something it wasn’t and are now having to learn BT and especially Lou/Tommy himself is not as amazing and loved as they think.

I'm honestly concerned for their mental well being at this point. it is astonishing how much delusion they've filled their heads with. how can they not see what is right in front of their eyes. even if they can't, it's just plain old sad that they're being so rude and hateful for no reason.

anyway if they wanna come be mean in my ask box, I'm not just gonna sit there and take it. I bite back. until I get tired then they get ignored <3

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer Part 13

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11.5k

warnings: swearing, descriptions of violence/the Demogorgon ate Barb, angst, fluff

A.N.: Happy Birthday to me and a very merry unbirthday to all of you! Thank you to everyone who sent such nice comments and asks after the last chapter, I really hope you all enjoy the update!!! if you see typos, no you don't :D

Dustin can’t decide who hates this plan more, Eddie or himself. 

They’ll split into three teams, one at the Creel House to draw Vecna’s attention on this side, and two in the Upsidedown, one to lure the bats away from the house and hold them, and one to send the bastard to kingdom come while his guard is down. 

Simple and more or less straightforward… until a very frustrating though decidedly no less valid question is raised: how do you know the plan is even going to work?

Which is to say, how are you going to make sure the bats will do what they’re supposed to and leave the house unguarded when Team Distraction turns the volume up?

Because if Dustin and Eddie can’t guarantee that their distraction will lure the bats — all of the bats — then Steve, Nancy, and Robin won’t be able to get into the house, and if they can’t get in the house, then they’re dead in the water before they’ve even begun.

As so often happens when the dark storm cloud of sobering truth rolls in on the horizon, they all come to the same simultaneous conclusion.

It strikes like a bolt of lightning in the distance — a brief purpling flash that is so sudden you can’t be sure it was even there until its presence is validated by the staggered clap of thunder following dutifully behind.

That’s what the realization feels like. Loud, pervasive, numbing. It leaves Dustin’s ears ringing in the hollowness it leaves behind. 

One of you is going to have to get out there and do something to lure the bats away — one of you is going to have to be bait.

Naturally, nobody is exactly eager to throw their name into the running for that prestigious task, least of all Dustin, who is under no delusions about being an athlete of any capacity. 

He’s a Hawkins Middle AV club alumnus for Christ’s sake, not exactly the picture of physical prowess. 

The notion itself is enough to set something cold and heavy settling in the pit of his stomach, like something out of a stress-induced nightmare — he knows no one is going to ask him to be the bait, but there is still that nagging pressure of worry.

He can’t imagine what he’ll do if the task falls to him, he can’t imagine what any of you will do. More to the point, he can’t imagine any of you being stupid enough to willingly go and put your life on the line like that.

Only that is not expressly true. Steve would do something that stupid, and he doesn’t even have to imagine it as the older boy steps bravely forward into their Socratic huddle. 

“I’ll do it,” He says, nodding solemnly like he’s just presented himself to steward the one ring to Mordor … though probably not, because Steve wouldn’t get that reference in the first place. 

He’s not Frodo Baggins, he’s just a big brave dog too stupid to know when to stay quiet and save his own life. 

Thankfully, the suggestion goes over more or less like a lead balloon.

“That’s not gonna work, Steve,” Nancy says, a messy halo of curls dancing about her features as she shakes her head, pursing her lips. 

The sting of her rejection is immediately evident across Steve’s face, and Dustin has to wonder just how much of that bravery is actually just plain, old fashioned peacocking to try and impress her.

Even if it isn't, there is not much of an argument to be made against the refusal of his offer, considering the general consensus of the room is more or less in agreement with her. 

It leaves him visibly deflated.

Dustin doesn’t fault him for suggesting he be the one to do it. It is nothing less than entirely on brand for Steve — big damn hero that he is — but in this specific case, it’s more of bonehead thinking rather than the noble gesture he imagines he thinks it is. 

“Why not?” Steve presses, speaking to Nancy more than anyone else in the room, “I’ll lead them away and double back — it’ll take ten minutes tops.” 

He makes a show of dusting his hands of imaginary grime before presenting her with his empty palms, impressing absolutely no one, Nancy especially. 

“Yeaaaah…” Eddie says through his teeth, stretching the word like he knows he’s got something to say that Steve won’t thank him for, “Only that didn’t work so good for you last time, did it, Bud?”

His head lolls left to press his ear to his shoulder as he levels him with a knowing look, squinting at him and scrunching his features in a way that could almost be misconstrued as apologetic. 

And he’s right, Steve does not thank Eddie for so graciously pointing out the shortcomings of his last expedition to the Upsidedown. 

“Last time I wasn’t running away, Bud.” Steve deadpans, hurling the pet name back at him with perhaps a tad too much vitriol. “They caught me off guard, I’ll be ready for them this time.” 

It does nothing to breathe any confidence into their group as a dissenting murmur passes through the cabin of the RV.

Dustin thinks deep down they all know they probably should let Steve do it, despite their misgivings.

He’s really the only one among them with the prerequisite skills for the job – all those sports he played – but there is still a glaringly obvious issue with that plan because Steve has already assigned himself a pivotal role, one Robin is all too happy to remind him of. 

“Listen, Stevie.” She starts, “We all know you’re super impressive or whatever, but this is one thing we don’t need you Galahading yourself over — you’re supposed to be running point up at the house so Nancy can light Vecna’s ass up, remember?”  

“Well, I don’t see anyone else volunteering.” He snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and making a point to scan the room in an expectant glare, suddenly towering over them like some kind of angry lighthouse sweeping the shoreline for signs of life. 

Dustin does his best to shrink out of his line of sight when it passes over him. 

He’s got no business volunteering for something like this, and even if he did, he’s already got his own job with Eddie, acting as his roadie of sorts — at least he thinks so, that’s how Eddie had described it and for his lack of expertise on the matter all he can do is agree. 

If he had to pick someone, Lucas is probably the best substitute for Steve, but he’s got to stay with Max on this side just in case Vecna’s hold grows a little too tight and a musical intervention is needed.

It’s a moot point, anyway, because they’ve already left that group at the Creel House, and Dustin can’t feasibly see doubling back for them just because the plan has changed. 

As far as he can tell, Steve is right, and there’s no one else left to be the bait.

“I can do it.” You offer then, speaking in a small, tentative voice from where you’ve tucked yourself in at the other side of the camper.

There is a shift in the group as everyone moves at once to find the source of the voice, staring in an almost stunned silence like they’d forgotten you were there. 

Dustin feels his heart seize in his chest in a violent spasm that has his intestines responding accordingly. 

Oh, God!

His eyes go wide as he whips around to regard you with something that can only stem from the gut-wrenching, pants-shitting terror he is suddenly gripped in. 

Not you, anyone but you!

Beside you, Eddie mirrors the motion, head snapping up so quickly Dustin is half surprised it doesn’t roll right off his shoulders and across the length of the RV. 

Under such tense scrutiny, you wilt ever so slightly, glancing nervously around the room, looking for any kind of a reaction.

And nobody outright rejects the suggestion like they had with Steve, much to Dustin’s abject horror. 

“I’ll do it.” You say again, this time with a little more confidence, giving a subtle nod as if to punctuate the affirmation. 

Dustin, of course, is ardently against it, but has found that he has been rendered suddenly and woefully mute by the complete and total shock of your suggestion.

Eddie is thankfully not caught in those doldrums, and he is all too happy to tell you exactly how he feels. 

“Like hell you will,” He gawps.

For the lack of any higher functioning brain power, all Dustin can manage is a stupid, emphatic nodding, and when the initial shock begins to fade and more of his brain starts to switch on again, he searches the room for the naysayers of the earlier moment.

He waits for the dissenting murmur, the interjections from prevailing cooler heads going on to explain exactly why you cannot, in fact, be the bait, but they never come. 

It’s just Eddie, telling you you’re crazy if you think he’s gonna let you get out there, and Dustin frantically nodding along like a goddamn bobblehead. 

“Why not?” You demand, sounding almost offended that he would disagree.

“Because it’s a suicide mission.” Eddie presses, putting harsh emphasis on the last two words.

You narrow your eyes. 

“Oh, please,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish. 

“Babe,” the pet name causes Dustin’s skin to prickle uncomfortably, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, “You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know what’s down there–”

“Giant vampire bats?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

He wires his jaw shut and glares at you.

“And a whole network of vines and tentacles and creepy crawlies that report directly back to the fucker himself,” He presses, only he doesn’t know the half of it.  

“Not to mention the Demogorgon,” Dustin says. 

The room reacts appropriately at the mention of the foe of their past.

You remain unimpressed where you stand, but Eddie twists slowly to regard Dustin with a highly suspicious look. 

“...I’m sorry…” He begins slowly, “The what?”

Steve answers for him, dismissing the question with a vague gesture.

“It’s like I told you, Munson,” he says, “We’ve been through all this before,” 

“Only this time, we don’t have the benefit of having a girl with—” Robin starts, but Eddie cuts her off. 

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned — can we just circle back to that Demogorgon thing?” 

“…that’s what happened to Barb.” Nancy says then, getting this strange, haunted look in her eyes as she speaks – the color drains from her face, “… what really happened…” 

The room goes eerily silent, leaving Eddie fumbling to understand what such a cryptic comment could possibly mean.

He looks from face to face, confusion etching itself deeper and deeper into his features as he waits for someone to elaborate. 

“What do you mean what really happened?” He finally demands.

They don’t have to say it, their silence speaks volumes — Barbara Holland’s disappearance had been big news for almost a year — almost bigger than Will’s disappearance, death, and subsequent resurrection.

An honor student ups and skips town out of the blue? Not a chance in hell, not Barb, at least.

As far as Dustin can tell from the hushed conversations he’d overheard his mother having, most people didn’t outright believe it, even if only quietly so.

They preferred to keep their heads in the sand and keep the horrific alternative to themselves: that something terrible had happened to Barb right there in their sleepy little town, and she was never coming back.

It's no wonder the good people of Hawkins had grown progressively more wary of things that didn’t expressly fit their happy little narrative over the last couple of years.  

If only they knew just how right they were to be afraid. 

Eddie blanches as it dawns on him – the bats aren’t the only thing down there that can and will eat you alive if you’re caught. 

“Oh, shit.” He mumbles. 

Then, like you hadn’t heard a thing they’d just said about the bestiary of horrors waiting for them on the other side, you shake your head. 

“I don’t care what’s down there –” You scoff, dismissing the truth of Barb’s horrific and untimely demise with a flippant gesture. 

Eddie whips back around to level you with an incredulous look – eyes out on stalks and as big as dinner plates.

“You gotta be kidding,” He stresses, “Didn’t you hear what they said? Something down there ate Barb.”

“Nobody said that.” You snap.

“Henderson—!” Eddie practically shouts, whipping around to glare at Dustin, though he hardly thinks the look is meant for him, especially with the way Eddie thrusts an accusatory finger back at you, “Tell her!”

“The Demogorgon ate Barb.” Dustin drawls. 

Somewhere to his left, Nancy flinches and he can’t help but feel a pang of regret for putting it in such crass terms, but it is very important to him that you understand the ramifications of what you were about to do. The danger you are putting yourself in. 

You roll your eyes in that same maddening way you always do that lets Dustin know exactly what you’re thinking – that this is all nothing more than D&D bullshit and that they’re blowing it out of proportion to try and scare you out of volunteering. He wishes it were as simple as all that.

He wishes that he wasn’t stuck thinking about the faceless horror that has haunted his dreams since that night in 1983 back at Hawkins Middle. 

And then he feels eyes on him, boring holes into the side of his face. Dustin turns to find Eddie staring at him, brows pulled tight over his eyes, still wide and fearful as the question he doesn’t want to ask forms on the tip of his tongue. 

It hadn’t occurred to Dustin that Eddie didn’t actually expect him to back him up like that, that he didn’t really believe that’s what happened. He was just being dramatic, like always, how was he supposed to know he was right on the money?

It’s visibly sobering, and Eddie clenches his jaw as the urge to ask about it escapes him, and he levels Dustin with a knowing look, nodding curtly.

Yes, the Demogorgon had, in fact, eaten Barbara Holland, as plain and simple and horrific a fact as that. Nothing more need be said about it.

And honestly, a lot more could be said, because that’s not even the worst thing that has happened since the Upsidedown came crashing up into their world, but somehow Dustin knows that nothing he says is going to be enough to deter you. 

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m the only one who doesn’t have a part to play in this.” You huff.

You bet your ass you don’t. 

You had, in fact, been excluded by design, because that’s the way Eddie wanted it, and Dustin was only happy to agree with him, much to your patent dismay.

Every single one of your arguments had come with just as many explanations as to why you couldn’t go — the least of which were that, despite the new bandages Karen Wheeler had wrapped your hand in, you’re still injured, just as you had stressed on the shore of Lover’s Lake the night before.

“So what?” Dustin huffs.

“So, it’s not fair.” You grouse, halfway to whining about it before Eddie shuts you down. 

“Life’s not fair, Sweetheart,” He says. “The sooner you realize that the better.”  

Harsh but true, Dustin thinks. 

Anyway, what you said is not expressly true – you do have a job. An important job that keeps you very far removed from danger of any kind — you’re supposed to guard the gate in Eddie’s living room from this side in the unlikely event someone comes snooping, and you’re extremely unhappy about it. 

Normally, that would fill Dustin with some sort of gut-wrenching guilt, but as far as he can tell he doesn’t give a shit about how you feel right now.

He only cares about keeping you safe.

You’d already sat arguing about it back in the field when the details of the plan were laid out, nearly spoiling what was just about the closest thing Dustin has experienced to a perfect moment with you in months — running around and playing in the grass in a fit of euphoric, childlike whimsy. It was almost enough to make him forget that there was anything wrong in the world.

That all came crashing down the moment Steve called you back to the camper.

“We really should have someone standing by in case the cops come poking around,” Dustin had tried to explain to your angry, pacing form after they’d broken the news that you were not invited to cross the gate with them. “A-and since you’re so good at thinking on your feet—”

It did nothing to soften the blow of rejection. You’d silenced him with an angry look and spent the next half hour quietly fuming in the furthest corner of the RV you could squeeze yourself into.  

And now you’re volunteering to smear yourself in blood and go willingly into the lion’s den, and no one is disagreeing that it should be you. If that isn’t some form of cosmic justice… 

That’s perhaps what distresses Dustin the most, that you’ve volunteered to go and die, and everyone is just going to let you do it. 

In a shocking turn of events, suddenly he and Eddie are the only sane ones among you.

“This is ridiculous , you guys–”  

“No, you’re not doing it.” Eddie says, slicing the air in a clipped gesture, “End of story. Harrington? Tell her.”

You scoff and open your mouth to protest the supposed finality of the statement, and by extension what Dustin can only imagine is a healthy dose of outrage over any kind of decision involving you being left up to Steve of all people, but he is quick to jump in before you can say anything. 

“Steve!” He stresses, “Tell her!” 

It catches him woefully off guard and Dustin watches as something a little closer to panic than he is comfortable with flashes across Steve’s features. Like being unexpectedly called on in class when you haven’t been paying attention.

Thick brows shoot up toward that immaculate hairline before bouncing back to furrow over Steve’s eyes.

He flexes his jaw and breathes in deeply through his nose, and after a moment’s hesitation, he finally opens his mouth to say… nothing. Dustin can’t believe it. 

He could scream. 

In all the time he’s known him, Steve has never been caught without some kind of a smooth one-liner, a witty comeback. Of all the time Dustin has known him, he has never once been rendered speechless. 

There’s a first time for everything, sure, but why on God’s green Earth did it have to be now? It’s just bad timing. 

Steve stands there, working his jaw like a gaping fish for another agonizing moment of deafening silence, even turning to Robin and Nancy for some kind of support – they have nothing to offer but incredulous stares – but it’s no use, he well and truly has no idea what to say.

You’ve started in again before he can get much more out than a bitten-off “Uuuuhhh….” 

“I’m not just gonna wait around babysitting a hole in the ceiling while you all put your lives on the line,” You bite, and somehow Dustin can’t help but get the sense that even though you’re addressing the room, you’re speaking directly to him – to Eddie, who has spent the duration of your spiel violently shaking his head in outright rejection.

He hardly lets you finish before he makes a harsh sound of incredulous disbelief.

“No.” 

“Eddie–”

“No!”

“Will you shut up and let me do this?” You shout, “I’ll lead the bats away from the house and make them chase me back here–” 

Eddie barks out a bitter laugh that has you clamping your jaw shut with enough force that Dustin hears your teeth click together.

“Right, just like you led Jason and those fuckers away from Rick’s place?” He snaps, his words dripping with disdain, “How’s the hand, by the way? Still hurts?”

Despite their united front, Dustin can’t help the stirring sense of injustice Eddie’s tone kicks up in his chest, rattling around like embers in his ribcage.

He’s not the enemy here, regardless of what his guts are trying to tell him, but the urge to defend you has long since been stronger than any of Dustin’s natural instincts.

Of course, you don’t need him to come running to your rescue – you never have, and he’s starting to suspect that you never will. Some small part of him aches with the grief of that realization. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like a loss. 

Suddenly it’s like you don’t even know he’s there anymore, with the way you’re looking at Eddie. Glaring at him like you’re the only two people in the room. It’s strangely charged, almost intimate, and it makes Dustin’s insides go squirmy like he’s witnessing something torrid.

Somehow it feels like the scene playing out before them is not for their eyes, and Dustin wonders briefly if they ought to leave the room, leave the two of you to this moment.

He watches you bristle, sees your gaze turn to white hot steel, and feels his insides clench for it.

His concern swings hard away from you to land on Eddie’s shoulders, then. Under the molten heat of your anger, he is surely about to whither and melt down to the bone.

Dustin thinks he ought to do something to try and protect him from that, but he doesn’t dare put himself in your line of site. Eddie is made of much stronger stuff than he is, he doesn’t need his help.

“Don’t be an asshole,” You warn him through your teeth.

Eddie throws up his hands and offers you a sarcastic smile, tilting his head ever so slightly like this is all just good, harmless fun. 

“Babygirl, I’ll be whatever I need to be to stop you from doing this.” He says, “Because this is a stupid fucking plan, you’re gonna get yourself killed and when you do, I’m gonna say I told you so.” 

Each point is punctuated by a sharp poke to your shoulder with his index and middle finger, firm enough to jostle you each time he hits home – you slap his hand away before he can poke you again. 

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.” You hum, a harsh, clipped thing oozing with disdain. 

Thankfully, before either of you can really start to fight about it, Robin interjects.

“Children – enough!” She shouts, breaking the spell - you both shrink away from the moment, settling back with arms crossed tightly over your chests, doing your utmost to avoid looking at one another.

Robin continues. 

“We don’t have time to sit around and watch you two go another ten rounds, okay? We’re on a ticking clock here so both of you need to grow up or go in the back and bang out whatever the hell is going on here. Get it out of your system.”

A momentary if not bone-crushing silence falls over the cabin as Robin’s words hang heavy in the air.

It does nothing to help the awkwardness of the moment when Eddie perks up, brows jumping toward his hairline as he gestures toward the pullout haphazardly folded up at the back of the RV.

You roll your eyes, and Dustin pulls a disgusted face.

He looks to Steve for some kind of commiseration only to find him and Nancy fidgeting awkwardly and trying to avoid looking at each other.

Robin looks decidedly pleased with herself as she continues, evidently more than happy to have made the moment exceedingly more awkward than need be.

“Now,” She says, “Everyone is making valid points on both sides. Is this gonna be dangerous? Yes. Is she more than likely going to get seriously injured if not violently dismembered attempting this? Absolutely, but that doesn’t make it an excessively bad plan—” 

“It doesn’t?” Eddie scoffs, which only serves to draw Robin’s attention as she sticks him to the spot with a very pointed look.

“Eddie...” she drawls. 

He squares his shoulders and levels her with an expectant if not uninterested look, hugging himself that much tighter like he’s bracing for whatever it is she’s bound to hurl his way. 

Robin continues, gesturing to you as she speaks. 

“She’s a grown woman – fully consenting – if she wants to get out there and get her ass eaten, that’s her decision to make, not yours.”

Dustin doesn't realize there’s any sort of innuendo behind the words, intended or otherwise, until Eddie makes a harsh, choked sound in the back of his throat. 

Almost immediately, his hand drifts up like he means to clap it over his mouth but switches gears at the last moment to rub at the faint hint of stubble shadowing his jawline, trying his damnedest to hide a less-than-subtle smile.

“Jesus – that’s one way of putting it.” He says, pulling his lower lip in past his teeth.

“Eddie.” You say then, voice lilting in a gently critical tone as your brows come down over your eyes. 

The tension of the previous moment evaporated in an instant, and Dustin doesn’t understand why everyone is suddenly fidgeting and rolling their eyes.

Nancy makes a soft sound of disapproval in the back of her throat, and suddenly he feels like something has flown right over his head.

He hates being the only one not in on the joke. Max might have been able to explain it to him if not entirely unwilling, maybe even Lucas, but on his own he is hopelessly lost among this group of older kids. 

“What?” He can’t help himself from asking, looking from face to face as everyone quickly avoids his gaze, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” You say immediately, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

Dustin still doesn’t get it, but there’s no air in the conversation to ask what exactly he’s missing before Robin addresses you in turn.

There is the faintest pink tinge to her cheeks as she says your name in a commanding if not entirely sheepish way. 

You lean over to smack Eddie’s quivering shoulder as he continues to fight the losing battle against the fit of giggles still threatening to overtake him. 

Before Robin can speak, Steve swoops in, taking her by the arm and literally tugging her back from the center of the huddle.

She wrenches her arm out of his grasp and levels him in a harsh glare. 

“Come on, Rob, give it a rest–” He starts, but Nancy quickly cuts him off. 

“No, she’s right,” She says, then turns to you, “You ought to know what you’re volunteering for”

You, in turn, tilt your head to the right to press your ear to your shoulder.

“Running like hell and hoping they’ll try to make a meal out of me, right?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

Like cracking a window at forty thousand feet, all the air is immediately sucked out of the room, taking any sense of levity with it as your words hang heavy in the air. 

Dustin can’t stand it. 

“Oh, come on… come on! There’s gotta be another way.” He presses, “Somebody has got to have a better idea than this.”  

A heavy silence falls over the room, one that leaves a hollow ringing in Dustin’s ears as he waits for someone – anyone to speak.

Somebody has got to have something in the back pocket, some kind of last-ditch hair-brained scheme that doesn’t require anyone to make prey out of themselves.

It’s so quiet he’s half surprised he doesn’t hear the telltale chirping of crickets. 

“Seriously?” He demands, “Nobody?”

When Dustin looks to Eddie for help, even he has suddenly become far too interested in his sneakers, hanging his head until his features are obscured by a frizzy curtain of hair.

It’s madness. It’s got to be some kind of spontaneous contagious insanity that only he is immune to, Dustin can’t think of what else could have such a hold on your tiny group that they’re actually genuinely considering letting you do this.  

Steve rolls his neck in a halfhearted shrug, like this time he’s the one with something to say that is going to be hard to swallow.

“It’s the closest thing to a guarantee we have,” He mumbles, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. “And she’s the only one here freed up to do it…”

“No way!” Dustin says, whirling around to level you with a horrified look, “You know this is crazy, right? You’re gonna get yourself killed!”  

“We’re all gonna get ourselves killed.” You argue. “But if I can buy us a little time before that happens and make sure we take Vecna with us…?”

He shakes his head violently back and forth, hard enough that it just about dislodges the cap from his head.

“Let Steve do it.” He begs, “Steve, tell her you’ll do it–”

He knows he’s whining, he sounds like a petulant child who has just been told something they don’t want to hear – totally uncool – but he doesn’t really care.

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until it knocks this parasitic idea loose from your brain and you see reason again. 

“Steve’s gotta make sure Nancy gets to Vecna.” You snap.

It drives him to the desperate edge, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, Dustin hurls himself out after you into the abyss. 

“Then I’ll do it.”

There, finally, comes that dissenting murmur again, snatching him back from the precipice and placing him gently back on the ledge. It’s a rescue that comes too little too late and for the wrong person because you’re still freefalling.  

The room fills with a dull discordant roar as all of a sudden everyone seems to have something to say, admonishing him for even suggesting the notion.

On one side he’s got Steve already halfway through a lecture about what will happen to him if he lets Dustin go and do something that stupid, meanwhile, Eddie is reminding him that just because he can do something in D&D it doesn’t qualify him to do the same thing in real life.

Everyone talking at once is at best, mildly overwhelming, and at worst, giving Dustin a headache, but at least everyone is focusing on him rather than agreeing to let you offer yourself up in the Upsidedown.

It feels almost like a chance, like maybe somehow he can grab you and whisk you away from all of this while everyone is distracted.

Maybe he’ll be the one to save you this time – if no one else will do it, he has to save you.

He should know better not to hope for things like that.

“Enough,” You snap, silencing everyone with the sharp utterance of the word – you level Dustin with a look that has him wilting under its heat, “This is happening. It’s gonna be me whether you like it or not. It has to be me.”   

There’s no arguing with you because there’s never any point in it when you get like this. You are a mountain and he is the wind, and no matter how he gusts and howls and rants and raves, you will not be moved … a big stupid, stubborn mountain, and that’s that.

As quickly as it began, the debate fizzles out, and the decision is made. Everyone quietly moves to take their places in the RV again. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sun is setting when you arrive, fiery claw marks cut the horizon to ribbons and set it ablaze with oranges and pinks and the faintest smear of purple. It sends a strange chill running down your spine, despite how relatively safe you still are on this side. The danger isn’t here, it’s lurking just below your feet.

For obvious reasons, you leave the RV parked among the trees and cross the threshold back into the Forest Hills trailer park on foot. You move silently, single file like good little ducklings weaving in and out of the trailers, broken down lawn furniture, and laundry lines.

It’s strangely abandoned, eerily so.

The only sound other than the gentle hum of the odd generator or the quiet murmuring of a television is the crunch of yellowing grass underfoot. Every step is like breaking glass and you have to work to remind yourself to breathe.   

You’re leading the way, which is not something you would have typically volunteered for, but among the lot of you, you’ve got the most experience sneaking around the trailer park (besides Eddie of course, but he’s not exactly the ideal candidate to go playing Percy Faucet) so it’s you, just like you’d told Dustin back in the RV. 

It has to be you.   

He’s actively ignoring you now, which is not something you’re sure you’ve ever experienced.

Sure, he’s been mad at you for one reason or another over the years, it would be hard to spend so much time as an authority figure in his life and not have some kind of disagreement crop up between you eventually.

But this time he’s pissed at you for good reason and you can’t rightly blame him for feeling so.

There’s nothing to be done about it. The plan needs bait and you need to feel included, one way or another – you know he’s got to understand that, even if he refuses to admit it.

Even Eddie is resigned to the fact that you’re the only person for this job, as much as you know it’s eating him up inside.         

You arrive at the Munson trailer in no time at all and hold the door as you usher your companions inside – Eddie first.

His mattress remains where you left it, along with the cascading fall of bedsheets knotted together, standing in suspended animation. You do your best not to look at it, or anything else you don’t expressly have to as you follow the last of your party through the door and shut it tightly behind you.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to look at the hole in the ceiling again until you have absolutely no other choice, which is to say until you’re crossing through it. 

A shudder passes through your body at the thought, grinding through you like the crunch of tectonic plates – you’re still not entirely convinced the thing isn’t going to sprout teeth and snap shut on you before you can slip through to the other side.

You’re also not entirely sure you even want to go to the other side, the place where bats had nearly liberated Steve’s head from his body and where Barbara Holland had evidently been dragged screaming into an untimely, violent death – but what choice do you have?

You have to go, especially after the fuss you’d kicked up in the RV. 

Before you can get very far down the line of trying to decide whether or not you’ve made a terrible mistake, Eddie is there, pressed to your side and snaking his hand down to link fingers with you.

You’re close enough that when you turn to look at him, your noses are nearly touching, and all your senses are flooded with him.

The rough pads of his scarred fingers brushing against your skin, the smell of his sweat intermingling with tobacco and something earthier. Some small part of you is worried it’s too intimate for the company you keep, but the way his presence soothes the fearful fluttering of your heart won’t let you protest the proximity.

He pacifies your worries with just a touch and suddenly you don’t care about the hole in the ceiling or the lapse in gravity or the monsters on the other side or anything else threatening to break your brain, all you think is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.   

“Come with me.” He says quietly and pulls you back through the kitchenette. 

You follow, and for half a moment, you think he may be leading you back toward the bedroom.

Your numbers make for tight quarters in the trailer, especially with everyone trying to maneuver the mattress laid out in the middle of the floor, you imagine if Eddie needed a private moment with you, there isn’t a better place to find one than the bedroom. 

Before you can make it too far down the hall, however, he pivots left and twists the handle of the side door leading to the porch.

An interesting development – you are suddenly gripped in the vice of curiosity and feel the gentle pattering of your heart as a hundred different possibilities race through you.    

“Where are you going?” Dustin calls from where he’d been sulking somewhere behind you, and when Eddie ignores him, he raises his voice, “Eddie! Where are you going?” 

He’s already halfway out the door when he pauses, hardly turning to acknowledge Dustin as he speaks. 

“We’ll be right back,” Eddie says.

You’re almost relieved when Dustin’s eyes flit over to you, silently gesturing at you in the expectation that you’ll give him some sort of answer you don’t have.

All you can do is shrug as Eddie pulls you through the door with a gentle tug.

Your unexpected departure kicks up about as much fuss as you expect it would.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Steve grouses, nearly stumbling over the coffee table in his hurried attempt to follow you to the door. “What now?”

“We shouldn’t split up, you guys,” Nancy calls, following Steve, “Not when things are so close.” 

Eddie pays them no mind as he heads for the rickety staircase, half rotten from disuse as much as years under the elements.

You’ve never known him to use it, opting always to leap down from the elevated porch instead, garnering many a twisted ankle in his day. You wonder if it’s only his insistence on playing follow the leader that has him taking the safer route for once. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie assures them.

“I am worried about it!” Steve snaps, “Eddie – you’re the most wanted person in Roane County and you guys are just gonna… what, you‘re gonna run off and find a quiet spot to … hash things out real quick?”  

“What’s the problem, Steve?” You sigh, stopping short on the top step and holding Eddie firm to the spot below you. 

You don’t have time for an argument, particularly out in the open air where any one of his neighbors could take a peek out the window and spy him standing there.

Steve is right, but you don’t have to let him know that. As always, he’s all too happy to spell his point out for you. 

“The problem is they’re out there looking for him.” Steve drawls, aggressively stretching the words like he thinks you’re stupid or something. “What part of this seems like a good idea?”

Eddie levels him with a poisonous look.

“Hey Man, this is your stupid plan–” He bites, “You’re the one who said we need the goddamn bait, so we’re going out there and we’re gonna walk the route as many times as it takes for her to memorize it.”

If that’s true, it’s news to you and you can’t say you’re expressly pleased to hear it. 

You’d always done your utmost to avoid the Creel House, considering its reputation for being haunted. That doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly where it is from anywhere you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the duration of your life in Hawkins, if only to make damn sure you steer as clear as you possibly can. 

You don’t need Eddie to walk the route with you, but you’re also not going to contradict him when he’s in a mood like this. 

Steve, unfortunately, is not clued in enough to pick up on the venom coursing through Eddie’s veins.  

“It’s a straight shot through the woods from here to there, what’s to memorize?” His tone is oozing with sarcasm, but you refuse to let him ruffle your feathers.

Whatever this is is important enough to Eddie to risk exposure, so you’ll humor him, and in the meantime, you’ll play nice with Steve so that he’ll let you go without a fight.  

You shake your head and offer him a lopsided shrug.

“It’s like you said,” You say innocently, “It’s a straight shot, so that means we’ll be back in no time.”

Robin appears in the doorway beside him then and pokes her head out, looking curiously between the standoff. 

Your eyes meet.

“How long did he say it would take him?” You ask, “Ten minutes tops?”

Ten minutes running, maybe, much closer to twenty-five at a walk, hurried as it is sure to be. Still, she snorts out a burst of undainty laughter.  

“You did say that, Steve-o.” She hums, elbowing Steve in the side when he doesn’t respond.

A thought flashes briefly across your mind, and you make quick work of undoing your tattered watchband.

“Here,” you say, tossing it to him, “You can even time us if you want.” 

Steve catches the watch with the ease of a lifelong athlete and turns the thing over in his hands, staring down at it and evidently weighing the pros and cons of letting the two of you slip off to God knows where – you could not have told him if your life depended on it.

For all you know, you’re on your way out of town, getting out of Dodge before the shit can well and truly hit the fan.

Yesterday, you might have jumped at the chance, but there are bigger things on the horizon now than the promise you’d made to Wayne out on the road between the trailer park and Benny’s.

Whether you like it or not, you’ve both suddenly got a big part to play in all this. The window of opportunity to just slip away has long since slammed shut.

 After a moment of chewing the inside of his lip, Steve finally relents, heaving a long-suffering sigh and running a hand through those perfectly stunning bouncy tresses.  

“Fine.” He says, “Whatever, but you two better come right back. We’re short on time as it is, we don’t need any unexpected variables —” which is to say they don’t need to stage a rescue mission in the event that someone catches you out in the open.

He snaps his fingers into a point and aims the unbelievably smooth gesture at Eddie, “One time out and back, no detours.”

His shoulders drop as a little bit of the tension brimming there visibly goes out of him, and he gives a curt nod.

When Steve turns his pointing on you, you give him an enthusiastic if not ever so slightly sarcastic thumbs up.

“10-4, Good Buddy.” You say.

Eddie wastes no time after that leading you down the steps and across the park into the nearest copse of woodland, stealing away from the prying eyes of the neighborhood like a couple of horny teenagers sneaking off to fool around.

Somehow you don’t think you’ll get that lucky.

The sun is nearly gone by now, and despite the way it still holds the park in the warm luminescence of golden hour, the woods are steeped in deep blue shadow. 

Eddie doesn’t say a word as you walk, he just holds tight to your hand and pulls you along. You do your best to keep up, but his legs are longer than yours and he’s like a man on a mission, cutting through the trees at such a pace. 

Had you been paying any kind of attention to where you were walking, you would have very quickly noticed that your route is not angled toward the Creel House as he’d suggested, but you’re not focused on anything but the silent walking wall that is Eddie.  

Staring at the broad stretch of his back, you can’t help but feel shut out. You wonder if he’s mad at you, but you swallow the urge to ask him about it. You know you’d only sound pathetic and whiny if you did.

Still, he’s giving you extremely conflicting signals, speaking so softly to you the way he had back at the trailer, holding your hand with such a gentle reverence, but pulling you along behind him to wherever you’re going with no sense of tenderness, all the while actively ignoring you. 

Of course he’s mad, you tell yourself.

He’d been under the impression that this saga would come to an end without you taking part in it, far removed from danger, but he should know better that you won’t be content to just sit on the couch and wait this out while everyone puts their lives on the line.

A misplaced twinge of annoyance bites at your insides at the thought that Eddie could actually be angry at you over this, that he would be pig-headed enough to think you wouldn’t put up a fight over being so summarily benched.

You know he knows you better than that, which means he’s sticking his head in the sand and being stubborn for stubbornness' sake.

You might have laid into him about gender roles in situations of peril, the same you would have had it been you and Dustin out here in the woods, but you’re tired of fighting,  so you bite your tongue and trudge along in silence, doing your best to match his gait. 

The further you go, the darker it gets as the sun disappears from the world and night sets in. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking before the trees part – much longer than ten minutes, you’re sure.

When you finally reach a break in the woods, you realize with a start that you are not standing in front of the Creel House. 

It’s the highway.

A lonely stretch of road somewhere nearer to the fairgrounds than the spooky Victorian, if you had to guess.

It is abandoned, pitch black save for the cosmos wheeling overhead. Hawkins has always suffered from an inexplicable excess of backwood roads completely lacking in streetlights of any kind, making for a rare lack of light pollution in this modern world.

Good for stargazing, but bad for walking anywhere after dark.

Where normally you curse the powers that be for its shoddy infrastructure, you’re thankful for the oversight now as you step out onto the shoulder, confident that in the shadows, you will remain blissfully hidden from sight.

Eddie hangs back as you pad carefully to the road and take a good long look in both directions. No impending cars, so far so good. 

Once you’re satisfied that you’re alone, you twist back around to look curiously at him.

“What is this?” you ask.

He’s fidgeting with his rings, twisting the burnished pig’s head back and forth over his middle finger, and you get the sense that he’s not as mad as you’d thought he was. Much more anxious than anything else.

Suddenly you feel rather foolish for being angry at him for nothing at all. 

“Remember back in ‘83?” He begins quietly, sounding almost shy, “When you were driving me around ‘cause the van died and I couldn’t afford to get it fixed?”

You nod, because of course, you do. You cherish those days. 

Those first few tentative weeks you spent driving around with Eddie Munson in your passenger seat, flipping through your cassettes, messing with your rearview mirror, trading a hundred and one inane questions in an attempt to get to know each other better — you remember the thrill of scandal, how anyone could have looked in and seen the two of you together, going along almost conspiratorially.

You know for certain that you would have been the talk of the town had anyone cared to notice, but the good thing about being more or less an invisible person was how you could get away with something like quietly falling into step with Eddie Munson without anyone batting an eye.

By the time someone thought to check in on you, the two of you were already attached at the hip, and there was nothing to be done about it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eddie gestures to the spot at the side of the road.

“Time’s stuck down there. It’s still November ‘83,”

You pull a face, wondering idly if he can even see you at this distance. 

“Yeah, I’m still having trouble with that one.” You tease, skipping back across the gravel to close the gap between you and Eddie. 

He remains unamused by the levity of your mood – contrary to what you’d almost fooled yourself into believing, this is, in fact, not a romantic jaunt in the moonlight, and Serious Eddie has come out to play.   

“Pay attention,” He presses, “This is important.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes – where had you heard that before?

“Important like that story about the raccoon?” Your attempt at humor falls flat and Eddie gives you a stony look – Serious Eddie is no fun, but you relent and raise your hands defensively, “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry… so, time’s stuck. What does that mean exactly?”

It’s a subtle change, but you watch his shoulders drop as a little bit more of that lingering tension from back in the RV eases out of him. 

“It means,” He says, “That the van’s gonna be sitting right here,”

You follow the motion when he points you back to the shoulder of the road, and you stand trying to imagine the big-bodied vehicle sitting there like a crouching beast, the way you’ve seen hundreds of times before. 

“…and?” You prompt, stretching the word lyrically as you turn on your heel to face him again, gently urging him to get to the point. 

It’s nearly pitch black now, and the others will be expecting you back. The last thing you need is Steve getting his panties in a twist and sending out a search party.  

“And… if something happens – if things go wrong and you can’t make it back, I want you to go for the van.” Eddie says solemnly, reaching down and taking your hand, “Shut the doors and barricade yourself inside. You’ll be safe there until I can come and get you.” 

You feel your face pull into a frown. 

“That’s not part of the plan.” You tell him, gently admonishing him for trying to change things in secret. 

Eddie heaves another one of those world weary sighs and shakes his head, messy curls dancing silver in the moonlight across the broad stretch of his shoulders.

“Fuck the plan.” He bites. “It’s a stupid plan.” 

You open your mouth to protest such a dismissal — it’s the only plan you’ve got — but he’s quick to continue before you can get a word in edgewise. 

“Look, I’m not gonna sit here and try to convince you not to do this – you’re so goddamn stubborn, we’ll be here all night – but I am gonna do everything I can to make sure you’ll be safe when things go wrong.”

“None of us can afford that luxury…”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to fight about it. Steve’s right. We’ve gotta make sure we’ve got our bases covered, including but not limited to the worst-case scenario.”

Which is to say in the event that everything goes horribly wrong and the monsters eat you alive and Vecna destroys the world.

Or maybe just in case the inevitability that you realize you’re not a track star and this being an impossible thing you’re trying to accomplish catches up to you.

How fast can you run? More importantly, how long can you keep up a sprint like that?

The answer is not something you’re expressly sure you’re ready to consider, but of course Eddie has to consider those possibilities — he’s a cynic.

Bad news first, always. Lucky for the both of you, you’ve always been more of an optimist.

“It’s a little over a mile from the Creel place to home,” Eddie says, and you glance reflexively down at your watch, conveniently forgetting that you’d given it to Steve before you left.

You give a lopsided shrug to try and mask the motion.

“Steve said ten minutes… I can totally do that.” 

Eddie frowns. 

“You think so?” 

No, you really don’t, but you’re not about to let him know that because if you do you’ll never hear the end of it. So instead, you offer a vague gesture that you hope is at least half as casual as you mean for it to be. It doesn’t feel like a successful move. 

“Yeah,” You say, your voice squeaks out an octave higher than normal, and you press your lips into a tight line against how scared you suddenly sound, “Sure, why not?” 

Because you’re not a track star? Because you’d nearly killed yourself just jogging across town less than three days ago and now you’re out here pretending like you’re some kind of Olympic gold medalist preparing for the hundred-yard dash?

Eddie gives you a hard, indiscernible look that makes your insides squirm. Somehow you know he can see right through the bullshit coating to your gooey, terrified center.

You watch as he searches your face for the answer to an unknowable question, and you see a quick flash of the feeling you’d only just managed to suppress. It’s brief, but it’s clear as day, illuminating his features like a bolt of lightning in the distance. 

Doubt. 

You know he’d never say so, but he clearly doesn’t think you can do this. Usually that would have been enough to stir up some kind of violent indignation in you, but suddenly you’re not entirely sure you can do this either.

Sure, you’d done your fair share of sprints in gym class, but this isn’t jogging a twelve-minute mile just to scrape by with a passing grade, this isn’t even making a mad dash from the boat house to the woods to try and escape Jason and the others – which had failed miserably, as Eddie had so graciously pointed out to you. 

This is running as hard and fast as you can until your body is pumping battery acid and your legs threaten to buckle beneath you. It’s running for your goddamn life and the lives of everyone else involved. 

If you don’t make it, no one does, so no pressure, right? 

“How far did you say it was?” You squeak, swallowing hard to try and conceal the tremble in your voice. 

“A mile…”  Eddie says, “Maybe closer to two.” 

Well, shit.

Still, you scoff and dismiss the notion with a wave.

“Easy peasy–” You lie. 

He shakes his head and chides your flippancy with a gravelly utterance of your name, which you candidly ignore.

“–lemon squeezy.”

Eddie says your name again, harsher this time, and grabs you by the arm in an effort to try and bring you back down to earth from the cloud of your delusions, but a sudden flash of lights stops your arguing before it can begin again.

Headlights on the road warn you of the car coming around the bend and send your heart rocketing up into your throat. 

Eddie swears harshly under his breath and takes your hand as you scramble back toward the treeline. 

He pulls you down into the underbrush and you don’t even mind the way your hip lights up in pain as you land awkwardly, holding your breath as you watch the pickup come into view.

It rolls down the road at a glacial pace, adorned with four angry floodlights that illuminate your little copse of woods and briefly blind you.

Through the spots and colors dancing across your vision, you can only just make out the handful of bodies stuffed into the cab, two more kneeling in the truck bed with roving flashlights in one hand and guns in the other.

Christ, they’ve got guns…  

You sink a little lower and move instinctually closer to Eddie as if somehow you’ll be able to shield him from them if it comes to it. As if your fragile, fleshy visage would do anything to protect him if they came out guns blazing.

Smarter than trying to make a human shield out of yourself would be to run, but could either of you really outrun a truck if your lives depended on it?

Not likely.

It makes you wonder how you ever expect to outrun these supposed giant vampire bats… 

You suddenly feel trapped, like a rabbit, crouched and shaking in the underbrush under the threat of baying hounds, watching with wide unblinking eyes until the truck has passed on and the crunch and pop of tires on pavement fades into the night.

When it’s finally gone, you do your best to breathe deep against the stinging adrenaline coursing through your veins like a swarm of angry hornets, but suddenly your chest feels impossibly tight. 

Steve was right, this was not a very smart thing for you to do and it's well past time you ought to be getting back. 

Before you can think to say something, you feel Eddie’s touch as he guides you to look at him with a kind pressure on your jaw. You let him turn you and as you stare back into those big, sad eyes of his, you can’t help but feel a cold wave of doubt bleed into you.

How the hell are you going to do this? How could you be stupid enough to volunteer in the first place and why’d you put up such a fight about it?

What’s going to happen when you let everyone down?

You’re all going to get yourselves killed, that’s what.  

For a moment, it’s all you can do to keep yourself together as you surge forward without thinking, nestling into the crook of his neck and his welcoming embrace. You sigh under the press of his arms as he pulls you close.

You take a handful of deep, staccato breaths, breathing him in and filling your head with the heady musk of everything that is wholly Eddie — sweat and smoke and sandalwood.  

It takes you half a minute to stop shaking, and half a minute more before you feel whole enough to emerge. You offer him a weak smile when you do.

Eddie tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and grips your shoulders firm enough that you’re half inclined to think you might bruise.

“Listen to me. Nobody needs you to be the hero here, okay?” he tells you, giving you a gentle shake for good measure. “You’ve already done enough, you don’t have to do this,”

You, in turn, reach up to bracket his face. He leans into it in a way you must think is instinctual at this point, and when your grip slides down to frame his neck, gracing the columns of his throat, you think for a moment you might kiss him, and if you don’t he’ll certainly kiss you. 

Oh, how you wish he would. 

Your eyes dart southward to regard the pillowy softness of his lips, cracked and chapped as they are, and you try to believe his words, despite how patently untrue they are — he still needs you.

“Everybody’s counting on me, Eds.” You hum, then tear your gaze up and away to meet his.

You watch as something flashes across his eyes, an indiscernible look that is tinged with an unmistakable sadness.  

“Then promise me you’ll go for the van if you don’t think you’re gonna make it, okay?… Sweetheart, please… just do this one thing for me.”

You don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure you can make that promise. 

His expression softens and he breathes out a shaky, uneven breath, shoulders sagging as he tilts forward and presses his forehead to yours. 

“What you said back at Rick’s goes both ways, you know?” He murmurs, “…I can’t lose you either… Not again.” 

Your heart swells and thumps heavily against your ribs. 

“What are you getting at, Munson?” You tease, because it’s all you can do to keep your emotions from bubbling up. “Spit it out.”

Eddie shakes his head, looking positively miserable as he speaks. 

“I love you.” He says, “More than anything – more than everything, and I can’t … Jesus Christ, I’m so scared something’s going to happen and I won’t be there to save you…” 

The sound tumbles out over your lips before you’re even aware of it bubbling up inside of you.

You giggle, and Eddie jerks back from you like the sound had jumped out and snapped at him.

You can’t help it, but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty to see the hurt look he gives you, like a freshly kicked puppy.

You’re not laughing at him, per se, but you can understand how it might seem like you are. Nobody likes to be reminded of their shortcomings, so you’re quick to correct yourself.

“Oh, Eddie…” you sigh, smiling sweetly at him in the hopes it will ease the sting of what you’re about to say, “I love you, but this isn't the kind of thing you can save me from.”  

It shouldn’t be startling, because it’s true. He'd said it himself, this is a suicide mission at its very best.

What is startling is the way Eddie reacts to hearing you say it, physically recoiling like you’d reached out with the sentiment and slapped him across the face.

“What did you just say?” Eddie gasps.

Suddenly he’s as serious as a heart attack and you’re worried you’ve misread the room. It leaves you reeling.

“...You can't save me?” You squeak out, half afraid of the hurt the statement is going to cause him if you ram it down his throat, despite how maddeningly true it is.

If things go as bad as he expects them to — which, to be quite honest, they very likely will — you don't expect Eddie is going to be able to pull you out of the frying pan, or the fire that follows, no matter how badly he wants to.

Still, his eyes grow bright and he shakes his head violently, sending his curls flying out in all directions.

His voice is tiny as he speaks. 

“No ... before that." He says. "... you said you love me."

You blink back at him in a way you imagine must look owlish and quite stupid, and you watch as he grows strangely shy.

It only serves to deepen your confusion.

"...Did you mean that?" Eddie asks tentatively.

You don't answer right away, though not because you don't, only because the question is startling and you don't expressly know what to say.

The silence that hangs between you is charged and infinite, and suddenly you’ve left the question unanswered too long.

You watch as something akin to disappointment shadows his features. He sighs and pushes up from your hiding spot in the underbrush, and stalks away out toward the road.

It occurs to you much too late that a stunned silence was perhaps not the best way to answer that question, but it had been jarring at worst and deeply confusing at best.

Of course you love him. You feel it so fully with every particle of your being that at times you feel like it’s going to tear you apart, even now after all this time when things ought to have evened out between you.

You’ve certainly told him as much often enough that you’ve worried in the past that the words are losing meaning … how could he think that you don’t?

When was the last time you told him? Surely, out in the field? …No? Well, you definitely told him back in the clearing in the woods after he told you that stupid story and set your hand? Then again maybe not… Back at Rick’s place? No, that was him…

Your heart drops into your stomach as the truth dawns on you.  

Oh shit... you haven’t told him.

How could you have not told him?

You scramble to your feet and nearly topple over in your mad attempt to get through the underbrush to follow him.

“Eddie, wait–” You start, taking clumsy steps toward him before he staves off your progress with a wave of his hand.

“Look, it’s fine, okay? I know you don’t feel the same way, but I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true.” He says, "I don't need you placating me just so I won't have hurt feelings or something—"

“Who says I don’t?” You demand.

It stops him in his tracks.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks moodily.

"Who says I don't feel the same way?" You say a little slower, putting precise diction into each word, and spelling it out for him on the off chance that there has been a sudden and rapid decrease in IQs out here on the road.

The effect misses its mark. He just stares back at you, bewilderment etching a mask into his features so deep, you wonder idly if you’re ever going to see him make another expression again.

A sticky silence bleeds between you as you both wait for the other to speak.

Finally, you throw up your hands in frustration as you realize that between the two of you, you're the one who has suddenly become exceedingly goddamn stupid.

How could you have let Eddie go on thinking you didn't love him? What were you thinking? Nothing at all, apparently. You are a mean and foolish girl, and you cannot believe how incredibly careless you've been.

“I love you, Eddie," You start, "I’ve always loved you, from the moment I met you. That didn’t stop just because you got in your head and decided you weren’t good enough for me or whatever it was… I loved you even when I hated you … I mean — God — I always thought we were gonna get out of Hawkins and get a little place somewhere together... I thought we were gonna…" You roll your eyes and suppress the urge to hide your face then, gesturing vaguely to try and cover the color creeping up your neck, “...you know… get married and stuff…”

You try to imagine how your old friends would have reacted to hear you admit that. How stunned they would have been to find you when you still belonged to them, already daydreaming about wedding bells and little chapels, secretly scrawling your name sandwiched between Mrs. Munson all over your notebooks.

It’s embarrassing, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It’s part of what had made the breakup so goddamn hard — you hadn’t seen it coming, you’d fully expected to spend the rest of your lives together.

Eddie makes a choked sound that is somewhere caught halfway between a scoff and something harsher. He blinks back the wetness suddenly brimming in his eyes as he reaches up to rub a calloused hand at the back of his neck. 

“Guess I really went and fucked that up for you, huh?” He sniffs. 

You shrug.

“Who says?” You ask, and when Eddie rolls his eyes, you double down, “Nothing’s changed, Eds—”

“Everything’s changed.” He stresses, stalking back across the clearing to close the gap between you, "How can you say that after all the shit I said ... everything I did? Everything is changed."

Suddenly you’re standing toe to toe, just like you had all those months back in front of the trailer, last summer. 

Somehow the roles feel reversed now as you meet his watery gaze and feel the looming threat of the same choice hanging above your head like a guillotine.

He's right. Everything has changed, but who says you have to accept that? You know he would take it back if he could — the terrible choice he’d made — so who says you have to make the same mistake here and now?

You know better.

You shake your head and watch something akin to terror flash briefly across Eddie’s face at the prospective rejection.

How pleased you are to be able to prove him wrong.

“Not for me,” You say matter-of-factly, “I still love you.” 

Like breaking the surface, he breathes out harshly through his nose and his shoulders sag under the effort of it.

“...You do?” Eddie asks, painfully hopeful, boyish even. 

You can’t help the way your face begins to split into a slow, delighted grin. Finally, you get to mend something that is broken rather than being the one who broke it in the first place.

You nod. 

“I do.”

“...Say it again.” He pleads, eyes flashing with strange and wild desperation, despite the way he’s begun to mirror your smile even before you say it.

You love him and he knows it, he has to know it. 

“I love you,” You repeat, reaching up to curl your fingers around his biceps and giving him a gentle shake for good measure, “Even though you’re a big stupid jerk.”  

He breathes out a wet, shaky laugh and suddenly he looks so fragile you can’t help but pull him a little closer.

Before you can admonish him for being so foolish as to think anything otherwise, his hands come up to frame your face, and he presses a searing kiss to your lips. It steals your breath and your eyes roll shut without your prompting.

You barely have time to process that you really ought not to be doing this so exposed, as chaste as the little kisses he’s begun peppering your face with are. He kisses you again and again, like he physically could not stop himself from kissing you if he tried.

You don’t think he’s trying very hard.

You’re in danger of being seen, standing so close to the road like this. Still, each gentle press of his lips is punctuated with a shaky utterance of his gratitude, blessing you for the reciprocation of the feeling, like he’s been holding his breath just waiting to hear you say it. 

He pulls back a moment to stare reverently at you, searching your features like he's trying to commit them to memory.

You don't let him go very far, clinging to him like you're afraid you'll lose him if you let him go.

"You love me?" he says breathlessly, less a question than a statement of fact.

He nods slowly to prompt you to do the same, and you obey, but he hardly lets you.

Any need to hear you say it again is evidently superseded by the need to keep kissing you, this time it is a hard, wet thing pressed so forcefully to your lips you can hardly move against it.

A peal of joyful laughter bubbles up out of you and you love, love, love.

You feel the curl of his mouth as Eddie kisses you again, muffling the sound with his lips and pulling you that much tighter against him, tight enough that you finally feel him slip back into place to fill the hole he’d left in you last summer, and for the first time in almost a year, everything is right. It fills you with joy.

Blinding, unadulterated, stupefying joy. 

It’s almost enough to make you forget the danger looming, and how once you turn around and head back to rejoin the others, you’ll very likely be going to your deaths…