#like. i graduate soon and its like i was never even supposed to be alive to be telling yall

[ace-with--a-mace]

genuinely like idk what im gonna do with my life i was not supposed to be around this long

[ymaohoh]

End of passion play, crumbling away - drabble - prompt

Hellcheer prompt - 'Chrissy and Eddie are reunited in death'.

End of passion play, crumbling away And what a fucking way to go. Eddie knew he was dying. Knew that as soon as the demobats’ teeth first sank into his flesh and consumed him piece by piece. It was a pain like he’d never experienced before. The thunder and lightning in the sky above seemed to absorb his screams. It was all very punk rock and metal. As Eddie’s soul trickled out of his body in a curious stream of bright gold light, a lithe figure wrapped in the same blinding light crept towards him. Its steps were soft and deliberate even though the red twisted roots and vines of Vecna could pose no possible danger. It turned its head to peer at him and Eddie recognised with a sudden intensity the graceful line of its body. He knew its gaze.  Eddie found himself trying to speak even though he had no breath left in his lungs. His shredded mouth (once so alive and animated and ready to laugh) lay useless now. Yet he wanted to call out and plead for this angel to come closer. To stay with him. To cry with him. An angel with the kindest and saddest eyes he ever saw.  Did you see that, Chrissy? God damn, that was the best rock show in the history of the world. Better than the Garden.  You were amazing, Eddie. I’m so proud of you.  Her lips never once moved yet her sweet voice was a melody. She was kneeling by his body and he saw that her limbs were smooth and unbroken. Just like she deserved. Something uncurled inside him at the sight of her face, he so glad to see her.  Are we dead? I think so. Yeah. He wanted to lift his ruined fingers to her lips. Even in death Chrissy Cunningham had the most beautiful smile, even if it looked like she was weeping. Every tear that ran down her bright illuminated cheek made him die all over again. I’m sorry I didn’t save you. I was a real fucking coward. It's alright, you saved the others. That’s what matters. Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams He could feel himself sinking further and further back into that gold stream of light as a little more of him faded. But maybe it was okay because she was here. It can't be all bad if he was going to the same place as her. What was left of his scattered thoughts suddenly imagined him and Chrissy in matching graduation robes, grinning as they posed for dumb pictures, and then Chrissy kissing his cheek as they drove away in his van leaving Hawkins far behind. It was too soon. This was too soon. His heart wrenched for all the fucking fantastic possibilities that now lay wasted. They were still kids and they deserved to be more than the casualties of some fucked up game of magic and smoke. He and Chrissy would fade away when they deserved the chance to live, grow, make mistakes. Just like kids were supposed to. But this bitterness wouldn't change a damn thing and he knew it. It was simply too late. So instead he kept his gaze on Chrissy's face and drank her in as his consciousness slipped away. And she made him feel safe. Chrissy, I want to take you on a date someday, you know? Fireworks, the whole lot. I'll make it real special. Just us. Yeah, Eddie. That sounds good. Come on, take my hand. Let’s go… Eddie wanted to grin and laugh and cry as the figure wrapped her lovely arms around him, the cloak of shimmering light enveloping and exhausting him completely.  Never-ending maze, drift on numbered days Now your life is out of season

Inspired partly by the interview with Grace and Joe and Grace says 'they're together now' (in death).

Lyrics are from Puppets

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 2 - Unwritten Laws

The next morning, Katrina woke up better than ever before - It was a beautiful morning with an even more refreshing feeling - Something she hasn't experienced in a very long time. She had a soft smile on her face so she dressed in the kimono of that annoying colour and braided her hair, doing a cute bow to tie it, only for someone to randomly pop up - Or, pop down, rather, from a tile from the ceiling. 

The man was dressed like one of those Ninjas in Naruto, only to have modern-day glasses that gave him away, somewhat. "Hello. I know we haven't properly met each other, but I was there when you went through the wormhole." he explained, making the girl snap her fingers in realisation.

"That means you have an idea of what and/or why it happened, right? Are you a scientist?" the woman asked, gesturing for the man to get out of the ceiling and sit down with her and chat properly.

"Yes. I am a post-graduate in Physics. We entered the wormhole at the same time, however, I arrived four years prior to you. And in this time spent here, I came to the conclusion that we are in an alternate timeline. I arrived at the place where Uesugi Kenshin collapsed. I saved his life with my knowledge of modern medicine. If this were our timeline, Uesugi Kenshin should be dead by now. Also, the Warlord Takeda Shingen, who is supposed to be dead by now, is also alive. Well... I predicted that you would do a time travel as well, and I searched for you, but I never imagined you would arrive four years after me." the man chuckled cheekily, making the woman look down with an amused smirk.

"Well, well, finally, someone who has brains around this place. Trust me, it's a real wonder. I'm a doctor now, but in the only day spent here, I didn't get to use my skills." she hummed in mock-superiority. "Anyway, I see these 4 years have been kind to you. To become such an excellent ninja requires true hard work and dedication... Not like you had anything else better to do, anyway. To think both Kenshin and Shingen are alive right now... As well as Nobunaga... Mitsuhide wasn't the traitor, he hasn't died in less than a week, and Hideyoshi isn't Japan's unifier yet... There truly are a ton of discrepancies compared to our own time's history. Well... Not like I know a ton about universal history and all. As you can see, I'm not exactly 100% Japanese, and most of my time I spent in Europe. I know the basics of history, with some details from some Wikipedia searches and... 'The Age of Samurai' documentary from Netflix. But I guess it matters for nothing now that we're pretty much re-writing history by just existing." Kat smiled wryly, admitting to her own ups and downs in common knowledge, but then she grinned charmingly, tapping the side of her face, pondering.

"I don't think we will need too much history knowledge with how much things have changed, but I suppose you could say that seeing the famous warlords of the Sengoku with my own eyes is a dream come true for me. My parents were big history buffs so I got my name from the Legendary Ninja that served Yukimura Sanada. Sarutobi Sasuke, the leader of the Sanada 10 Braves, the fictional group of 10 ninjas that supposedly assisted the warlord Yukimura Sanada during the Warring States, and since that's pretty much my name, I've basically taken his place, so my impact on history is pretty low. Unlike yours, Physician Princess." he sniggered friendly, making the girl shrug playfully.

"Rumours fly around faster with a ninja around. Anyway, I know we have no actual technology around... Except for what we were caught with in the wormhole, and that only works on the left-over batteries... But do you have any idea if there's any way to go back home? There must be a wormhole some time soon, right?" she theorized, and thankfully, the ninja scientist nodded in relief.

"According to my data, the next appearance will be in three months... But I'm still unsure of its location, so I believe it will be best if you spend these next three months here, since we're in the midst of a chaotic civil war... Ah, someone's coming. I'll be staying with my employed in the city below. Send a smoke signal and I'll come to your aid quickly. Bye, Kat, it was lovely meeting you." and with that, the scientist completely disappeared.

"Goodbye to you too..." the girl muttered, getting up and opening the door to her room, only to see Mitsuhide, wearing his usual fox-like smile, and two very soft and sweet looking women behind him, both holding some big boxes of unknown content.

"Hello. Please, do come inside... Although, I don't have any tea or snacks to serve you." she stepped to the side, welcoming the trio inside her room.

"What a lovely welcome, from one fire fox, to another silver fox. Well, I will be direct with you. Lord Nobunaga is calling for you. He wants to see you." crossing his arms and nodding to the girls to open the boxes, revealing several hair pins and hair decorations, along with a beautifully embroidered and painted flower-patterned black, golden and red kimono and matching haori and zori sandals.

"U-Uhm... I would like to thank you for your consideration... Truly, I appreciate the thought... But I simply cannot accept such a gift. I have done nothing to deserve or earn such expensive outfits and jewellery, therefore I must decline." the red haired woman looked away, embarrassed, fidgeting awkwardly with her fingers.

"My, my, how modest of you, little Princess. Well, then take it as an early payment for all the hard work you're going to put throughout your stay here, at Azuchi. Besides, if you don't accept them, it will be me Hideyoshi kills. He pushed these onto me and said, and I quote, 'She can't go dressed like that, take this to Lady Katrina'. Don't worry so much and let these maids take care of you today, then, you can do whatever you want." Mitsuhide bargained with the girl who remained quiet for a while, and then simply nodded. Whispering a soft "Okay." and "Thank you.", the two maids had Mitsuhide leave the room and called Katrina to take a bathroom.

The Faux Princess had to insist a few times to be allowed to wash herself... Alone... By herself. She enjoyed the soothing hot water that calmed down her overworked and stressed muscles, and soaked much longer than she realised, but damn, the relaxation was so worth it. She didn't even care for the wrinkly skin, she was just so happy.

Her apartment back home was pretty small, so she didn't have enough space for a bath tub, only for a shower, so there wasn't any chance for her to relax like this. Not bad at all... Maybe this will be a pretty fun trip... A vacation, maybe? Definitely worth it. With just this bath alone, Kat was content.

After what may have felt like ages for anyone waiting on her, the physician woman got out of the bath and dried herself off, allowing the maids - Aiko and Maki - To take of her however they felt fit, trying to erase the embarrassment she felt in allowing others to pamper her like that. But this kindness and politeness... Yes, these women were nice and all, but it was all fake. After all... She was a Princess, and everyone wanted to gain favour with the Princess, and by default, gain favour with the Lord who assigned them to do this. She's seen enough Imperial Chinese dramas to know the drill.

The girls carefully combed her long, crimson hair, and they made two decorative braids in the back, loosely tying them together with a beautiful, golden ribbon. They helped her with dressing, and then gave her some food - And an excellent dessert - And shockingly, Masamune was the one who cooked for her! Kat knew, cooking wasn't rocket science, but cooking in the 16th century, and especially something so spectacular... She was intrigued, to say the least, and it's the first time she was actually interested in learning something that wasn't revolving around her work-space.

When she was finally able to leave the room, she saw that Mitsuhide was still there, and he smirked at her, satisfied. "You look lovely, Lady Katrina. Shall I take you to Nobunaga's room? I don't believe you know your way around the castle yet well enough." he spoke, gesturing with his eyes to be followed.

"Thank you for your thoughts, Mitsuhide. Although... Please, do not use such honorifics when addressing me. You and I both know I'm not... Well... I did nothing to earn such a high social status, nor the respect of anyone, therefore, such words are nothing more than empty pleasantries that are used as an attempt at gratifying and elevating one as someone greater, yet it has no meaning, nor worth." she finally spoke after a while, making the silver-haired warlord stop in his tracks and look at her with slightly widened eyes, surprised by her words.

Instead of addressing her statement, he merely hummed in amusement and understanding, and took her hand, kissing the back of her hand. "I thought I'd ease your nervousness, yet somehow, I may have missed the mark. You seem even more tense. What dark thoughts are plaguing your mind, little fox?"

She didn't dare look at him - She could feel her cheeks reddening slightly, as she could only look to the side, fidgeting with her fingers and biting her lip. "I... I shouldn't... It's not..." she muttered softly, almost as if afraid to say anything, her eyes darting around carefully.

"There's no one here who could hear you, there is nothing to be afraid of, little one. Your voice is soft enough that not even I may hear it." the warlord mused, encouraging her with the teasing.

"In my time, what you did is a romantic gesture. All that considered... It never happened to me before. That's... That's all that I was thinking. Nothing of importance. Forget you heard it." and with that, the red haired girl stepped ahead, getting in front of Nobunaga's door, only to peer behind her shyly. "Although... It wasn't too bad saying it to someone. Thank you, Mitsuhide."

And thus, hearing a soft snigger from behind, the leaving footsteps left her all alone, in front of the beautifully painted landscape from Nobunaga's paper door. Announcing her presence to the Warlord, she was invited inside, only to see Drew already sitting there, playing Go with Nobunaga. And he was losing very shamefully.

Looking down and fidgeting with her fingers, Kat felt awkward and didn't know what to do, so she just stood there, by the door, awaiting further instruction. It didn't come until Nobunaga completely decimated Drew's forces and he won. Drew threw a tantrum and flipped the table, having all pieces fall around the room, but Nobunaga sketched no reaction - His face was hard and cold as an ice statue's.

The poor girl could only look away, very embarrassed at being associated with him, but also, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with having to witness such a... A fight. A one-sided fight. The man didn't even bother speaking to her - Instead, he stormed out of the room, cursing the warlord left and right. As well as him, the girl said nothing either, but unlike him, she moved for the first time since getting there. She got one of the vases that held the red pieces and began picking up each piece. However, as she was doing that, Nobunaga suddenly moved, grasping her wrist, stopping her at once.

"Why are you doing this? It was not you who made a mess of my room." he spoke, his eyes cold and almost ruthless.

"Yes, but what he did wasn't okay. A man shouldn't behave like a spoiled brat. He's always been a sore loser and would make a huge show whenever he lost at something. Mind you, he was never a great player at... Any game. As well as that, we are both from the future, and having him show such disrespect makes it look as if we are some ill-mannered savages or something." she explained, placing down the vase and putting her other hand gingerly over his.

"You feel responsible for his actions, is that it?" he scoffed, seeing the girl offer a small smile.

"Unfortunately, I do tend to do that a lot." she mused, freeing her hand and continuing picking up the pieces. "But I think it's more shame and second-hand embarrassment."

"A leader always takes the responsibility for his subordinates' mistakes, likewise, they are responsible for teaching them accordingly. Katrina, I do not understand you. It came to my understanding that you and that man were married, or in courtship, therefore you are not a leader, just a maiden trying to pick up the discarded sword of a broken peasant pretending to be a warrior. You could become an Empress, but you sell yourself short. It's pitiful, if not, pathetic." he grimaced, making the girl hang her head, but nod, nonetheless.

"Yes, you are right. I am aware of that - But it's not like I have much choice in the matter, do I?" she let out a dry, sardonic chuckle. "We are not married, and, truth be told... I don't have any positive feelings towards him either. I could end it any time, should I find something better -- I just hadn't found anything better than this wretch yet.." she shrugged simply, though the bitterness was evident on her face.

"Enough self-pity and servant-work. I did not call you here to clean my room." he swiftly ended the conversation. "A scout reported from the East. One of the daimyos there wants to revolt against me. We are facing a force of more than 2.000 men, so it is very small. I am going to lead the attack with my own army of only 500. You will be coming with me. Here's your chance to bring me luck again." he finally spoke with more vigor in his voice, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Oda Nobunaga, the Demon King of the 6th Heaven almost died... He must be weak, we can finally take our chance and win against him. We can defeat his army and take over Kyoto." Kat smirked softly, humming in amusement. "You're going to make quite the statement, Nobunaga - A 1 to 4 army... Very bold." she tapped the table, a habit she took whenever she was being playful or amused. "Is it true what they say? The safest place for anyone is near the general, for it is the most guarded one? Is there anything I should be afraid of?" she teased playfully.

The brunet warlord let out a boastful laugh. "You are brave, woman! Brave and witty, yet foolish to believe there is any place safe under the Sun. Get up, we are leaving now!" and saying that, he lunged to the girl, getting her up and leading her out of the room and into the stables, leaving her mute from shock as she, once again, was dragged up onto Nobunaga's horse with crazy ease.

Nothing more was said until they arrived at the camp - They sat on small wooden chairs, awaiting... Something. Tension was high in the air, and screams of rage, agony, war cries were splitting the air. It wasn't like in the movies, Kat knew that, but even so, curiosity, intrigue and slight fear mixed together in her heart. She wanted to watch, to observe, to analyse, but at the same time, she wanted to stay away and be safe. It wasn't that she valued her life much, but she didn't want to give it away too freely either.

Then, one of the warriors came by to his warlord, alerting that the enemy commander sailed out, risking his life in battle - Nobunaga was almost impressed, he could even say he was half-intrigued... Or maybe a quarter at most. And yet, the Lord got up from his chair and put his hand on the katana hanging from his waist.  He was going to go there and put an end to the enemy's life by himself.

"You must be bored of sitting there, silent. You'll come with me, I want you to see this." the man commanded, already striding to his horse, leaping up and going ahead.

"... You should have waited for me, at least." the girl muttered, and seeing that no one else was around, she held her clothes up, allowing more freedom of movement, and ran after him awkwardly, muttering curses under her breath.

Suddenly, she heard a loud, authoritarian shout - "Aim for Nobunaga's head!" - they said, making the girl's head snap up to the Lord's silhouette, barely a few meters in front of her, and then she saw an archer to her right, drawing his bow towards her. 

"Do I look like a man to you?!" she shouted at him, and seeing a dead soldier on the ground, she leaped down, grabbing up the corpse and using it as a way to cover her body as much as possible.

The familiar sound of an arrow being released, and Kat closed her eyes, not having a clue what else she could do to shield herself - But than the splitting of air by a sword was heard, and a familiar voice boomed through the place. "I am your enemy! Don't mistake me for someone else!" and with that, Kat peeked from behind the dead warrior as Nobunaga decapitated the archer, his blood splashing around like an artesian fountain. So that really was as flashy as in movies. "Katrina! Observe diligently what is happening around you!" he commanded, and with that, he turned around and went ahead to create more carnage.

Thankfully, the war didn't last much longer, for the warlord got to the enemy, and the red head ran up by his side as soon as he leaped down from the horse. "A demon!" some of the enemy soldiers shrieked in fear, seeing the merciless eyes of the sadistic warlord, along with "This man is a monster!" Nobunaga's cold, lifeless, killer eyes seemed to terrify the soul out of everyone... He was enjoying the way he scared and intimidated his enemies.

But Kat wasn't scared. Instead, she kinda felt sad hearing such words. In a period of only war, to call someone so gifted in the art of war, a monster, just because you're lesser than him - No, never mind, humanity hasn't changed.

The woman walked by his side, in front of the cowering enemy leader who was kneeling and praying, begging for his life to be spared. But Nobunaga was having none of it. None who rebel against him may live. And he struck him down on the spot.

"You lost to number less than half of yours. You should be cursing yourself for thinking you stood a chance. Understand it already! This is the end for you. And it goes without saying, your foolish vassals will accompany you on your fate." and thus, he ordered everyone from the castle to be pulled out - They were all bound and taken away - It seemed to Kat like they were inmates on death row, or maybe lambs to the slaughter, awaiting the guillotine blade to fall down on their neck.

Was he going to kill all of them? Even those who weren't involved in any way in the war, and just had the misfortune of being born in the wrong castle area? It seemed unfair, and yet, she wouldn't be surprised in the least. It's the Sengoku era, and she remembered how completely heartless Nobunaga was said to have been, killing and lighting up buddhist temples, women, children and anyone that was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

She could only look at them go by her with lingering sorrow, feeling her heart sinking, but she was saying nothing. She understood, and it wasn't like a warlord would take back an order and choose the mercy route, just because of a woman's plea. He was Oda Nobunaga, and he was a Warlord. The most feared one in the whole country.

As a physician, she looked at the irony presented in front of her - A woman who vowed to save as many lives as possible, next to a man who vowed to bring his success by killing. Did he even care about others' lives, or did he just see humans as pawns in a chess game, playing only to win? Was he truly not afraid, even by a little bit, of being in the middle of the war, among so much death and danger?

She went back to Azuchi almost robotically, not being aware of anything around her, as she was too deep in her own thoughts. Maybe someone tried to talk to her, but she behaved rudely by unintentionally ignoring them. But she wasn't sorry, she didn't want to do it, those thoughts were too intense and interesting to speculate.

And so, she got back to her own room and slumped on the ground, resting her elbow on her knee and propping her jaw on her palm, looking unfocused and just...Pondering. That is, until the room to her door was opened and, unexpectedly, Hideyoshi greeted her. She saw the man and gestured for him to sit down next to her and have the conversation he wanted - Why else would he be there, anyway?

"You seem unexpectedly well after what happened. Are you sure you come from an era of peace?" he asked with light amusement, no doubt trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

"Yes, I am sure." she smiled softly. "I've always been great at hiding what I'm feeling, and I naturally am level-headed and don't fall under the pressure, so I guess my rational thinking and composure saved me from panicking too bad. Thank you for your concerns, Hideyoshi, I truly appreciate your thoughts." she nodded as a thanks.

"I did come here to bring you some basic necessities and see how you were doing, but I suppose you are pretty fearless." he stated. "Did anything happen to put you in such deep pondering?" he asked, almost as if he were a big brother concerned about his little sister after her first day at school.

"Well... An archer tried to shoot me. The arrow was aimed at my face. That was scary. I leapt to shield myself with a body from the ground, but thankfully, Nobunaga was there in time and sliced the arrow... And then the archer. It was scary back then, but the adrenaline surging through your veins makes it bearable. When you relax, it's when the fear actually catches up to you - Rationally, at least." she recalled the story with a sigh. 

"Yes, I suppose for a woman who never even saw weapons her whole life and lived such a sheltered existence, having an arrow pointed at you and almost dying must be traumatic." he nodded, a serious expression on his face - But then he patted her head with a nice smile. "But that's not what's on your mind, is it?"

"No... You are right." she admitted. "After he killed the enemy lord, Nobunaga tied up all the vassals, including the women and children. In our history, he is known as a merciless man who kills anything in his path - However, there are enough discrepancies in this timeline from my own... So, I was wondering... Are these war prisoners going to be killed? Or will they be used as slaves or something?" Kat asked, looking pensive at the vassal in front of her.

"Kill? Lord Nobunaga would never do something so wasteful. The traitor will be stripped of his land, which will be put under the control of a new daimyo. The wounded will be treated and sent home to work the land as farmers and peasants once more. They won't be allowed to become samurai or warriors again, though." the man explained to her the process of taking war prisoners.

"I see. I suppose that makes sense. That means I will finally have some proper work to do of my own these days, that's great. I figured he wanted to get rid of this revolt quickly, with as few people as possible, to show that he's stronger now than ever, even in spite of the fast-flying rumours about the Honno-Ji incident... So he's thoughtful first, then merciless and valiant. I think I understand him and his reasonings better now." Kat nodded in understanding, letting a pondering silence veil the both of them for a while.

"I still don't yet approve of you, but now that you are a member of the Oda forces, and you have already been through one war, you have to try and understand what is going on around here. Things won't be easy for you, but I am sure Lord Nobunaga wouldn't put you in direct danger, considering he needs you alive. But that's all I can tell you now. Once you've calmed down and had enough time to sort out your thoughts and feelings, go to Lord Nobunaga and thank him." and thus, he extended his hand towards her, to help her up.

She graciously gave him a smile and got up with his aid, and they nodded at each other. "Thank you for coming here and explaining these things to me. I needed that. You're a very nice man, Hideyoshi, whether or not you approve of me. I appreciate it." but then, the man smiled and hummed cheerfully.

"Don't thank me. Also, before I forget - Have this. Put this on your wounds. While I won't trust anyone who seems suspicious until they prove me wrong, I wouldn't leave an injured woman untreated. It's not my style." and thus, he stepped out of the room, waving at her goodbye.

"Thank you, Hideyoshi!" the girl went out as well, waving at him as well.

"Thank Ieyasu, not me. I'm just giving you leftover medicine he made." he chuckled lightly.

"Ieyasu is interested in medicine as well?!" the girl's first real reaction - True interest and excitement - Painted on her face, her eyes gleaming eagerly.

"Yes, he is very gifted in this domain. He may be skeptical and apprehensive at first, but pay him no mind, he's just introverted. You can learn many things from him. I'm sure you will be his favourite student... And only one." with an amused look, he left the place, leaving the girl to her own thoughts.

"Fascinating... Very fascinating..." she muttered to herself as she found her feet taking her towards the Lord. "Well then, here we go again..." 

And thus, Katrina sighed, gathering herself and her thoughts, and calling out to the Lord, awaited for approval to walk inside - And she did hastely.

She walked in the demon's den as fearlessly as he expected.

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[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode: --I'm going to give Tanjiro a pass on breaking this sword, it was less for misuse and more for Rui just having have powerful strings. This is as surprising as Akaza breaking Giyuu's sword and a testament to the demon's strength. That said, Tanjiro aptly recognizes his own immaturity as a swordsman to have not judged the situation better. (Will that stop him from pushing a sword roughly against obi, or totally yeeting a sword away forever? Nope. Go ahead, Haganezuka, sharpen that kitchen knife.)

--Inosuke displays such practical math skills. If Giyuu defeated one of the Twelve Moons, and Inosuke defeats Giyuu, then Inosuke is the strongest! I love how fast he backtracks on this as soon as he's told that wasn't one of the Twelve Moons, though. That was Tanjiro being stupid, not Inosuke! And, despite Inosuke using Tanjiro's name correctly here, it evokes zero reaction out of Giyuu. The guy really does have a one-track mind, he is indeed here to save as many of these (surprising stupid??) Corp members as possible.

--Giyuu displays such practical rope skills, and even woodworking skills for how he fashioned a muzzle for Nezuko. I like to think that he and Sabito experienced their training as something more akin to being Boy Scouts.

--Inosuke makes THE BEST noise in this episode.

--This exchange: "Moshi moshi, daijoubu desu ka?" "Ojiichan?" "Who's Ojiichan?" -> more actually translated as "who you callin' 'Ojiichan' you little punk???" That said, this exchange is great because for as much as Zenitsu may be an annoying member of the household later for various reason, Shinobu knows how skilled he is, and she also provides set-up for how Tanjiro is going to have to look inside his memories to desperately search for some way to save himself.

--Also, it's really nice that they gave Zenitsu a glance down at all those people getting saved, and the assurance from the Kakushi that those people are alive (a scene which I cannot find in the manga). If memory serves me correctly, they have the Kakushi talk more about this in a following episode to really drive home the fact they were saved by Zenitsu, and that his dream of saving lots of people has already come true. Does Zenitsu know it? Well, depends on how much he's listening in his dreams and accepting that as reality. What with adding the scene with Kamuro in Yuukaku-hen, someone at Ufotable must really, really care about Zenitsu.

--Ok, so, the meat of the episode is, of course, Tanjiro .vs. Rui. It really is a battle of ideals at its core, with Rui using others for what role he feels they are supposed to play in bonds forged by fear, and Tanjiro feeling committed to the truth he spouted in the previous episode (blood bonds do not matter as much as positive emotional bonds), and as well expanding on that here (not only does he have an unbreakable bond with Nezuko, but this is because it's a two-way relationship, Nezuko has her own will in the relationship).

--That the playground "take it back" "no" "take it back" "no" battle between Tanjiro and Rui has graduated to a desolate situation. The music and darkness and Rui setting aside his strings to make a point of their difference in strength by very simply punching and kicking Tanjiro. In human life, Rui never ever would have had the chance to be a playground bully like this.

--For as small as Rui is in statue, he treats Tanjiro like an annoying little kid, especially in calling him things like "bouya." That's fair, though, being a demon he likely is many years older than Tanjiro or Nezuko, though going by Muzan's attire in Rui's flashback, I feel like he's maybe 30 at most. Way, way younger than, say, the Hand Demon or Hairou. I wouldn't be surprised if he's only be a demon 10 years or less, making him around the same age as Tanjiro. Another example of favoritism? Very likely.

--That brazen "take a shot, bro" pose and smile? Wow. Rui takes his already threatening presence to such a higher level with that. And were any of us at all surprised when he revealed he's a Twelve Moon Demon? Ha. Nope. We already knew you were scary, kiddo.

--So with all that setup, we feel the heightened danger Tanjiro is in. There's a sense that all the momentum has been leading to this, as opposed to feeling like there's still going to be pay-off with more goings-on after the battle like in the Kyogai and Susamaru & Yahaba cases. It was an appropriately desperate situation in which to change up the tone completely and pull out a reveal as big as Hinokami Kagura.

--And apparently it made the internet go wild, though at the time I was not involved in any circles in which to see the internet collectively lose its mind over this episode. (Also, I perhaps had not yet started watching, or I was still in the first arc.)

--And for good reason everyone (supposedly) went wild! That dramatic build-up, with moments that startle you like Nezuko's blood dropping all over Tanjiro's sword, had lots going on to support it.

--THE ANIMATION. Holy hell, Ufotable, you mad people. That Water Breath against the spider threads once Tanjiro calms himself down and uses proper technique again? Moves in such a satisfyingly lucid way, with a weight and flow totally different from the grounded flow of Rui making a punching back of Tanjiro and Tanjiro stuffly forces all his power and desperation into a useless strike at Rui's neck. The way they change all the colors at the Blood Technique closes in on him and Tanjiro makes a desperate retreat into his bright and happy memories. And then the effects on Hinokami Kagura itself? Do I have the words to describe this and all it's glory? Yet another dramatic shift in movement, color, lighting--AND THEN THEY ADD NEZUKO'S BLOOD AND HOLY FUUUUUUDGE

--And the animators, not even knowing yet how the manga was going to end, had to pour a lot of thought into capturing both the air of Kagura spiritual dance and swordplay into that scene in the snow, and also, wow, Tanjuro's words to Tanjiro really do put so much of the broader story and its use of Breath into perspective.

--But what really makes this episode for me? THE MUSIC.

--Yeah, you all know exactly what I'm talking about. "The Song of Kamado Tanjiro" comes in like a bucket of water poured over flaming stove, giving us that first loud sizzle like a sense of relief. Even if it invites us to relax, we can't, so the sparks crackle back to life, and by the end of the episode, the flames have whooshed back stronger, until we're sucked against against our wills to do a very different, very firmly peaceful place as the ending credits roll. (Did we die in a house fire, as that's already on our minds anyway with how the Kamado family prays to avoid such terrible incidents??) --This song is like a chicken and egg question for me. Which came first, the animation, or the song? Whichever way it way, the editing and timing with the movements of the music and how they fit what's happening on screen in the shifts of battle, and "plink" of that one high key on the piano is never wasted.

--The lyrics, they are so closely tied with everything we know of Tanjiro so far in this series, even binding him to others like the sound Zenitsu hears from him and the threads Urokodaki has taught him to see (side note, for Tanjiro to have read the kanji in Rui's eye at that distance, our boy's got pretty powerful eyesight too). It's ironic how the lyrics show Tanjiro in a web of bonds that Rui can only dream of in vain.

--The use of instruments too--we associate the piano with Nezuko's theme, and then the flutes have a very Kagura style effect to them.

--For as soft and gentle as this song his, it moves like Tanjiro does in battle, at his lowest moments he finds his calm and his conviction and comes back to finish strong.

--So yes, the animation and use of music in this episode stunned audiences, but the story itself is also a statement. Tanjiro--together with Nezuko's active will in this battle, assistance from their mother's bond from beyond the grave, and reliance on the value of passing traditions down from generation to generation--proves his claims about bonds and their importance, taking this from a playground spat to a statement that will resonate throughout the entire series, right up to Tanjiro's final escape from Muzan forcing a blood-based bond upon him.

--So anyway, yes, very, very, very, very, very, very good episode.

To wrap this up, Episode 19, as experienced by Nezuko: --zzz --ow, bumped head --Oniichan is breathing heavy --NO DO NOT CUT ONIICHAN TO BITS --ONIICHAN IS NOT FOOD, NOT STEAK --Ow --I am having so much trouble understanding what that demon is saying, I am Oniichan's sister --Oniichan is going to fight aAAAGGGAAAAAAI------ --Dude, you are crazy, shut up --ow--- --OOOOWWWWWWWWWWW --Don't hurt Oniichan --Oniichan, no---OOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW --I sleep --zzzzz --Mommy? --Oniichan's gonna what? --Kekkijutsu, BOOM!!!!!!!!! --zzzzzzzzzz

[arts-butthound]

Letters to Ominis

Summary: The trio have graduated Hogwarts and life has set each of them to the wind on their own. However, Eudora and Ominis continue to write to each other after the summer...

Word count: 5k+

Tags: Ominis x F!Hufflepuff student, fluff, they like each other but don’t know that the other likes them back.

part 2

Read on AO3

September 27th, 1893

To Mr. Ominis Gaunt-Archivist Extraordinaire,

It has only been a few short months since we last saw each other and I have thought of you every moment I’ve had that was truly mine. I often think about the three of us in France together, taking in the sunset as the waves crash against the shore. Of your encouraging promises to write me-and I do expect you to keep your word.

Despite the valley still smelling of summer, the school year has started, as has my aid to Professor Howin. 1st years eagerly line up to pet the puffskeins, 2nd years attempt to hide pretty shinies from nifflers, and 3rd years are being promised that by mid term-they will have learned to approach hippogriffs. I’m sure Highwing and Nocturne will be on their best behavior when the time comes.

It’s only been a few weeks and the halls are alive again as they ever were. Our poor grounds keeper is already discretely drinking away his mourning for his freshly mopped floors. Despite all the life around me, the halls feel awfully empty without all my friends here. It is as if I still see you, Sebastian, and myself running through the halls or hiding from Peeves. I’m so very grateful for the two of you. You made what I feared would be a very lonely school life into something of I could have never expected. Imagine going from telling cattle your deepest darkest desires for all of fifteen years, to suddenly being thrust into the care of people so wildly enthusiastic for your company. If it weren’t for Poppy, in her last year, I should expire of lonely nostalgia in the absence of you all, you and Sebastian especially.

A second year Gryffindor seems to have formed an attachment to me. I think he may have some very weighty things on his young mind and I only hope to be a comfort to him.

I argue with the keeper’s portraits constantly. Apparently preserving the thought processes of hundreds of years ago has its drawbacks. In my staying to study the repository “again, for the third year” has me in the running to become the new Isidora, and a threat to their precious secrets. There are many times I begin to understand her frustration, though not her means. My theories are often shot down, and there are days where they keep me from the repository completely. I’ve begun to find Silencio to be a very handy spell to have on hand. Deek, the house elf, has very kindly continued in helping me try to uncover what exactly this magic is and why it is so dangerous.

I hope your training in the Ministry is going well and that they are treating you well. And that you’re eating enough...and sleeping enough, though that shouldn’t be so hard for you. I expect to hear of all the terribly wicked gossip that comes across your desk. Withholding what is too historically salacious, of course. Far be it from me to get you into trouble, for that has always been Sebastian’s chief delight.

I have written him but I suppose his studies keep him busy, for I have not heard word back from him yet. Professor Hecat appropriately caught me sulking about it and assured me that it is most common for an Unspeakable to be out of contact for periods of time. I hope Sebastian is well and taking care of himself. I fear his obsessive tendencies, even being that they are an aid in his new career.

Please write back to me soon, Ominis, for my world is darker for lack of your company,

Your friend,

Eudora

 October 4th, 1893

To Miss Eudora Ferguson- animal care-taker extraordinaire,  

I fear I have little to tell concerning salacious history, for I am too lowly to have such things cross my desk as of yet. In years to come, I shall remember to share all I can.

My work is straight forward enough and my days repeating. I wake up, I eat a small something, leave my rented room and spend all day as courier to officiate documents before they are filed away. I come home well after dark, eat another small something I picked up on the way home, and sleep. It isn’t much, but it is honest work. Without the influence of my family, it is wholly my own doing. Tossing around the Gaunt name does not hold as much water as it did with Professor Black, I’m at no loss to say. Honestly, if people learn of my family name, they have a tendency to become distant. I will show them, given time, that I am nothing like the rest of the House of Gaunt. Fret not, pet, for I care for myself as best as I am able.

For as much comfort as you were to Sebastian and I during our time at Hogwarts, I am sure you will be nothing but a heavenly reprieve for your new young friend. As for the portraits, I’m afraid I have no mind to give advice on such things. Those who made up their minds centuries ago aren’t likely to change their minds when only their portraits remain- for there is no mind to change anymore. Keep at it with your persistent determination and I’m sure you will make a discovery eventually. If silencio is your one comfort with them, then let it be so.

I have not heard from Sebastian myself, though the two of us perhaps don’t reach out with letters to each other such as you do. Try not to worry. I’m sure his head is firmly glued to his desk and surrounded by towers of books, if that is indeed how Unspeakables operate. I’m sure the loss of Anne last year has only kicked his obsessive tendencies into a higher power. He will come up for air eventually and we will hear from him. You and I are all the family he has left after all.

Take pride in your efforts but do try not to stretch yourself so thin. I’d hate to receive news that you’d caught fever again.

Yours affectionately,

O. G

October 13th 1893

My dearest Ominis,

You are right, I shouldn’t worry about Sebastian as I do. However, making sense of things rarely allows the heart to change and I will continue to worry about him, more than likely, until I hear from him.

I received the rare letter from my mother yesterday, voicing a great many concerns that I have heard time and again. It seems to vex her that I am still in contact with you and Sebastian without any understanding of marital intentions. She worries that my reputation will be forever sullied and that I shall be labeled as a loose woman that only rakes will seek out but never respect. To her, it was bad enough that we were friends when I had just come of age to be in society, “running around as a young boy with skinned knees and muddy clothes” as she said. But now she fears that I am to lose much more than my dignity on the subject now that I am a young woman of marrying age. She so rarely seems to be in contact just to lend her maternal warmth and good wishes it seems. It’s times like this where it is revealed how oppressive the muggle world can be, how closed off from even each other they are. It is almost the 20th century, yet still men and women cannot be simple friends without something sordid going on in the background. The wizarding world is very different in that way.

You and Sebastian have always been protectors of my dignity and image and have never once been uncouth towards me. No matter how often I tell her that, she refuses to believe it. I can never seem to find the words that would soothe her misgivings. I even told her when you headed off Garreth Weasley in fifth year for persuading me steal for him (though I left that part out.) How he couldn’t be in the same room with you for two weeks without watching your every move in terror. Nothing helps, I’m afraid.  She’s says that she trusts me, but her every other action and fear would suggest otherwise.

Professor Onai and I both got a letter from Natty recently. She seems to be taking Auror training with all the brass she brings to any ambition of hers, though she does admit to soreness and an odd sense of paranoia. She did also mention that her trainers warned all their trainees about that. Professor Onai got that same crease in the middle of her brow that she gets whenever she’s worried, but a cup of hot tea and stories of the old days seemed to calm her.

A small brown cat seems to have taken a liking to me recently. He follows me around the school as a duckling might its mother, crying insistently until I pick him up. He’s quite the scarf and I have thus decided to name him as such. He has also learned where my living quarters are in the castle and will yowl at the door until I allow him in. He’s quite the talkative little man. He settles on the rug in front of the fire place and will join me in bed once I settle in. I must say, I’ve grown quite fond of him in this short time.

Opal the mooncalf gave birth again, this time to twins. Her husband seems quite pleased.

Are you excited for Halloween? I love it when the castle is cluttered with carved pumpkins and leaves fall, crunching pleasantly underfoot. I fondly recall you cursing each jack-o-lantern that dared to trip you in the halls. I spent the evening in Hogsmeade at The Three Broomsticks, crouched over a hot butterbeer, perhaps two days ago. I had come there with Poppy, but she seemed thusly entertained by a young musician and left me alone at the table. Miss Sirona and I could only eye each other with all too knowing grins. I’m sure it won’t be a lasting distraction, but it was good to see Poppy continue to work to connect with more people. Poppy and I walked home as fat snowflakes fell on top of us. I daresay that I was ready for another hot butterbeer by the time I got back to my chamber.

Do keep warm,

Eudora.

October 20th 1893

My dear Eudora,

Damned pumpkins. The Ministry building was flooded with them, too! As if the floor-ways weren’t crowded enough as is. You’ll be very entertained to read that I nearly twisted my ankle several times tripping over the wretched things, or toppled over them after being pushed into them. I shall be more than happy to see them disappear after Halloween.

Are you still insisting on referring to breeding pairs of animals as husband and wife? Truly, the sorting hat knew what it was doing by putting you into Hufflepuff. Your sentimentality knows no bounds. I don’t think mooncalves even mate for life, if given the chance. Opal and Stanley only stay that affectionate because they are the only breeding adults you seem fond enough of to keep. I can easily imagine you marrying your childhood toys together when it suited you. A precious imagining, indeed.

I’m sorry the letter from your mother wasn’t kinder. At least you know she worries out of love for you. It’s hard to understand how she ever married a wizard, with all her fretting of magic. But out of a strange union came you, so at least she did one careless, beautiful thing in her life. Let her not worry you about other’s perspective of you. Friendship between the sexes has been a long time occurrence in the wizarding world. I’m more than happy to say that I haven’t heard from any in my family since we graduated. I would have it no other way.

You’ll be comforted to know that an old clerk woman in my department seems to have taken a liking to me. She’s ancient and smells of mothballs. I’d dare say, when those odorous things came on the market, she filled every foot of her home with them. She’s even kindly placed a handful in my palm sometimes, when she’s feeling sentimental. Tells me I remind her of her son, and that he would always get holes in his suits from the little devils. Sometimes she sends me home with a portion of a homemade meal. She’s not a fantastic cook, but then neither am I, so I remain appreciative.

Thinking of you often,

O.G.

October 28th 1893,

Dearest Ominis,

‘One beautiful and careless thing in her life.’  I can’t tell if you’re trying to flatter my mother or me. Do be careful sir. A man could cause terrible things to stir within a woman, sounding as you do. The women of London would have no idea what would become of them, should you begin to skulk about their dance parlors. Secret dancer that you are, it is truly a shame you have no taste for conversation, or new company. Whether or not you talk to people, you’ll find that they find you handsome, if not intimidating…much like a certain Mr. Darcy that I know of.

Peeves seems to have set his sights on me. The other day, whilst I was doing my laundry, all my freshly cleaned undergarments had disappeared. A moment later, I could hear his howling laughter down the hall.  They appeared two days later, hung amongst the bells in the bell tower. If you imagine my embarrassment at retrieving them, then you have only imagined a third of it. Professor Weasley found out at threatened to banish Peeves from the castle…to which he threatened to set the castle on fire. Again. To which Professor Weasley threatened to summon the Bloody Baron. Peeves conceded and sulked away. At least I got my underwear back, I suppose. I will have to be more watchful in the future, should I become a regular target of his.

I have learned a new great joy in life and it is challenging Professor Black as an equal rather than as a student. I caught him berating another ‘lesser’ student since last I wrote. The poor child had been being tormented by a pack of thoughtless pure-blood students, and Professor Black thought he could degrade this poor child further. I stood up to him, put my arm around the child, and told him that if he felt so important sticking his nose up at children, perhaps it would make him bigger still to use that same tilt at a adult able to match him. I decided to berate him back, in the most respectful manner of course. It took the wind clear out of his sails, and he scurried back to his dark little office. I don’t know how often I should use this against him, as I do recall his power over my station here at the school. But I also know my own cards that I can deal against him.

I’ve formed a theory on ancient magic recently, though I’ve yet to be anywhere close to proving it. It was ancient several hundred years ago. Perhaps what makes it ancient is that it is older than human magic? With the things I’ve been able to do with it, how I saw it used in the pensieves; much of it seems to have similarities with modern magic, but with an extra something. With Deek helping me…perhaps it’s just me over thinking., but what if this ancient magic, and what elves are able to do with their own magic are somehow related? How then some humans are able to see it, I haven’t the slightest. My theory is too new and may very well be totally wrong. The portraits are of no help and still cling to their fear of understanding what it is. I don’t understand how one of the keepers could see it, wield it for such powerful good, and yet be so averse to understand why or what it is. One needs to understand why a thing is dangerous, what about it must be avoided. We understand dark magic for a reason, why not the same for ancient magic? We praise and swear by Merlin, and more than likely, he would know what this magic is-or at least been keen to know.

That young Gryffindor boy continues to impress all his teachers, and infuriate them. He has quite an intellect and thirst for knowledge. I dare to say that he would rival even Sebastian’s own pursuits. He’s quite an angry young man, I must say, but there is grief in his anger too. To distract him from his thoughts, I’ve sent him on small hunts through the castle that-to my pride- sometimes take him a few days to find his goal. By the time he is a 6th year, I dare say he will have an unflappable mental map of the entire school. Professor Weasley has taken to kindness towards him as well and he rewards her with high marks in her class. I hope that Hogwarts brings some comfort to him as it did me.

How is your work going? Are you adjusting to London well? I pray that your mothball madam is keeping you well fed. You give me so few details on your life there that I feel I must prompt you.

Are you well?

Eudora.

November 5th 1893,

Eudora,

I can scarcely believe I allowed you to read that book to me and that I even remember as to what you’re referencing. If I remind you of that Mr. Darcy, I should consider that a mark against my character. He was a rather formidable foil to Elizabeth until he pulled his head from his ass, and I should pray that I am not near so needlessly difficult.

I have always praised your character. Flattery or no, it is the truth, for you are very careless.

I beg you not antagonize, nor impassion Professor Black. Spineless as he is, witless as he is, he is still a powerful man. Whether or not you think your victory in the recent goblin rebellion will give you a better standing in wizard society, pure-blood families will always have the power to quash that what threatens them! They always have and I don’t see that changing in the near future. I could not bear to know that you were one of those wonde Don’t make me live to see you disappear. Don’t ask me to bear that. Take caution.

If Peeves were tangible, I should strangle the lout for his lack of propriety and decorum. Making an acquaintance with the Bloody Baron should suffice to keep Peeves at bay. Peeves is terrified of the Baron. He’s not so terrible, once he allows you passed the persona; the man is prideful and hot tempered, but during my time in Slytherin house, I had a handful or two good conversations with him.  If you are seen in his company, I’m sure Peeves will never pull such a stunt against you again!

Your theory has merit, though I don’t know how you could prove such a thing, or how well the rest of wizarding society would take it. Especially with ancient magic being such a closely kept secret. It is a shame that Sebastian is still missing from our company, for he would likely be of great help to you. Keep the thought in your pocket, perhaps strings of it will lead you elsewhere.

As for life in London…my dear, you crave the words of a novelist I fear, for which I am not. The streets are crowded and I’ve had to take to being rather cunning on how I use my wand to navigate. The air is more dense and unpleasant to anything I have ever before breathed. While crossing a road, a carriage nearly ran me over two weeks passed. Were it not for a kind civilian, I would have been trampled. The carriage owner and driver were never identified, to my knowledge. It is quite loud. I sit here struggling of what else there is to say. It is fairly monotonous, my work is not exciting. But it is simple and it is earned and I work every day to shed my coworkers preconceptions of my family name. Those who know of the Gaunts have whispered to those who previously did not.

You were always the adventurer, Eudora, and will no doubt collect more stories in your life than I will. I feel I have had more than my fair share as it is.

Adventure safely,

O.G.

PS: Don’t phrase it as mothball madam, I beg of you. The implications are horrendous.

November 18th 1893,

Truly, Ominis

If you believe Mr. Darcy needlessly difficult, you did not understand him or his world view. Irritating, or painful though his actions were to Elizabeth, they were meant as a kindness to those he cherished. Damn the rest of the world. I believe I recall you damning the rest of the school to help Sebastian and me out of our blunders…if only to chide us yourself later.

You could have told me about the carriage incident weeks ago, you realize? Who would have informed me if something happened to you, especially with you so nonplussed to speak about your life there? Do you tell anyone of Sebastian or me so that we can help, or worse- be notified, if something happens? Especially with your wand hidden as it must be, I can’t imagine that makes navigating any easier. I’m very glad you weren’t hurt. I should be torn asunder were something to happen that took you away from me, Ominis. You are important in my life and I would see it that you never be parted from me it.

You have such a way with words. I feel as if I know London intimately thanks to your description, truly! Should I ever visit the city on my own, I know I shall be familiar with all your favorite haunts. At least I know to pack perfumed handkerchiefs as a precautionary measure.

The winter holidays are fast upon us and I can scarcely believe it. Before I notice it, a new year will be upon us. Students are beginning to make holiday plans, whether they are staying at the castle or going home to their families. It’s a little early, but still students titter. I suppose I’ll be expected to go home to mother. I can leave Scarf and the other animals in Deek’s gentle care. Mother will be wanting to bring me to winter community dances and introduce me to fine and well established farm hands in efforts to begin to find me a suitable husband. Of course, he will be a muggle. Either she fails to realize that his being introduced to my being a witch will be imperative, or she is still trying to close me off from my father’s inheritance. The only reason I’d want to go home is to steal away with my favorite cow and come back to Hogwarts, which is now more of a home than my mother’s farm, and I do miss Kilt the cow a great deal. Of my two choices, staying at the castle comes easiest, though not most preferred. I’m told that Natsai will be coming to the castle for the holidays to visit with her mother, so I suppose I won’t totally be without company (as Poppy plans to go home to her grandmother.) I had thought, at the beginning of the school year, that you, Sebastian, and I might reunite for the holidays. But that doesn’t seem likely.

I also had hopes that one of us would have heard from Sebastian by now and I am sore for his company. I continue to send letters to him but they remain un-responded to. Whatever research and training he’s doing better be well worth the chiding he will get when he does finally appear! In the dark of night, when I think of it, my mind gives such sharp pains to the thought of losing contact with him permanently. Where could he be, do you think, that should keep him from us this long? Four months is such a dreadfully long time. I have tried to persuade Professor Hecate to tell me something of the work of an unspeakable, that way I might understand what stops him from writing. She is a wall as she ever was.

I hope you’re keeping warm as it gets colder at night. Scarf is growing into quite a large cat and has been enjoying a whole side of the bed to himself…of course, that is until I settle down into the covers and he climbs on top of me to sleep, tucking his face under my chin as he does.  He’s very warm.

I still go to the undercroft sometimes, when I’m feeling lonely. I miss dearly our late night talks there, or when you and Sebastian were kind enough to let me share my favorite books with you. Always after curfew or Sebastian would set to complaining. It still smells musty and sometimes I think I smell you. Perhaps I am overly nostalgic. Perhaps that, due to my late arrival to the school, I wasn’t quite ready to leave when everyone else was. A part of me still feels that we should all be here. But I think I just miss you.

Goodness me, would you listen to the sap I’ve devolved into! This is probably why I shouldn’t write to you late at night, when all my thoughts go to wondering without supervision. I do apologize sincerely. I seem to have taken my self-reflection out on you. Perhaps I won’t send this letter and rewrite it tomorrow when I have my senses returned to me. If I do send this to you, please don’t think ill of me. I’m sure my next letter will be much less…whatever this was, and I will return to telling you of witty adventures and theories.

Have patience with me,

Eudora.

December 2nd, 1893

My most sincere Eudora,

Blasted bird. I apologize for the lateness of my letter, it would seem the owl became either horribly turned around or forgot where it was supposed to go. I only just received you letter this evening as I was walking home from work.

Please think nothing of your wondering mind, for it does not offend me. In fact I must thank you for sending your last letter unaltered. Your heart was always truthful and holding back your thoughts did only make you ill of soul and body, if I recall. If you feel lonely, tell me so. Should you feel joyous, allow me to share it. If your righteous anger burns, tell me to whom I should hurl my vitriol towards. You need never fear honesty between the two of us.

Should it please you to hear it, I also miss our reading hours in the undercroft, whether your choice of book was terribly romantic or deviously adventurous. I come back to my room and it is quiet and without the familial warmth I found in Sebastian, Anne, and even you. You had such a way of reading that one felt they were truly in the story. For what it is worth, I am glad that the undercroft remains a comfort to you. I do not know how long it will be left empty once you have quit Hogwarts for good. Of course, there will always be new members of the Gaunt family to fill it, but I regret that it may never be the safe haven we knew it as again.

I too regret that you did not join Hogwarts sooner, for it robbed us all of time with each other. I can picture all three of us who were of Slytherin house cherishing and caring for our lone Hufflepuff. Had you been able to know Anne, you would have loved her as Sebastian and I did, (I seem to find myself mournfully nostalgic as well, these days.) I do so hate the thought of you being such a lonely little girl, for it strikes a familiar cord in me that was a lonely little boy and I would wish that on no one. Should we have all been together longer, there would have been many more memories for you to hold during the summers back home-though, I imagine that the Figs may have tried to wrestle you into their care at some point or another, with how fond the professor was of you. I like to imagine you would not have felt the need to carry an entire goblin rebellion solely upon yourself, had you more connections to rest back upon. Perhaps it’s just the time of year, my dear, that makes us think of our time passed or stolen.

Perhaps it is impertinent to suggest this, even selfish of me, but it does occur to me nonetheless. Should you want to leave the confines of Hogwarts and its valley, yet not go home to your mother, you are free to come to me. I have only the single room with little furnishings, but you are welcome to all I have. I should be glad of your warm company and perhaps a visit would chase the melancholy from both of us. Of course, I realize you are also close with Miss Onai, and should you prefer to stay in her company this season-it would gladden me greatly to know you are comforted in her friendship.

You shall always have my patience without asking for it. No matter what you could possibly do, I shall always think of you kindly. Your name is a bell hung in my soul; should you but ring, I would

Your friend, always,

O.G

December 10th 1893

Ominis,

My coming to see you is a brilliant idea and I’m glad you thought of it. I will buy my tickets. I will see you on the twenty second and I will stay with you through new years . Let the two of us chase away each others sorrows, as to start fresh in the new year! There are things about this season that cause me to think of things I’d rather not-and you have always been wonderfully distracting.

Don’t blame the owl too harshly. I can’t imagine flying in December is always easy for them.  

Yours eagerly,

Eudora.

[anitosoul]

My Favorite Albums of 2020

5. Soccer Mommy, color theory

Favorite Tracks: circle the drain | bloodstream | yellow is the color of her eyes

In 2018, I graduated from college and got my first job. I was living in Oklahoma City working a 9-5 as a research technician, and despite staying in my home state close to my university and hometown, I was excited to be fully independent in a new city. I soon began experiencing feelings of early 20’s existentialism—the fear that, as a funny tweet I saw mentioned, we go to work, buy coffee, and listen to podcasts until we die.

Soccer Mommy’s record Clean was in heavy rotation for me back then, but it’s color theory that truly captures the muted monotony of living a life where you do everything you’re supposed to but nothing you wanted to. It’s an album that represents the postgrad paradox: being tossed into the rest of your “adult life” without any of the community, friends, or events that the university environment provides while still feeling adolescent, inexperienced, and directionless.

Most people do what they’re “supposed” to do, aka get a job and move to their own apartment. Outside of the 9-5, though, life can exist as a giant void that would have previously been filled with socializing, studying, or partying. Some people swing towards pure optimization, filling the void with exercise, cooking, or even overtime at work, consuming themselves with the only thing that gives their life any direction. Others swing the opposite way, watching hours of streaming content or gaming, ordering daily takeout, doing drugs, or attending regular happy hours with their coworkers, once again allowing all their personal time to be consumed by the thing that’s supposed to give their life purpose. The worst part of it all is that the emptiness of postgrad life is supposed to bring fulfillment; after all, we spend basically our entire lives going to school for the moment where we graduate, get a job, and become productive members of society. It’s no surprise that everyone feels a pressure to act like they have their shit together, whether that’s on an Instagram story or an unexpected run-in at the bar or the gym. For me, looking towards the future and thinking that my life would be 40 years of that was terrifying.

Sophie Allison, frontwoman of Soccer Mommy, said that the colors in the album are blue, yellow, and grey representing sadness, anxiety, sickness, loss, and mortality. color theory takes those feelings and packages them into an album that feels like a drawn-out look in the mirror, referenced directly on the excellent opening track, “bloodstream”:

There’s a pale girl staring in the mirror back at me Wish it were just a dream, wish I could go back to sleep Why am I so blue? Someone’s talking in my forehead that says I’ll never be like you Happiness is like a firefly on summer evenings Feel it slipping through my fingers, but I can’t catch it in my hands - Soccer Mommy, “bloodstream”

I had many similar days, waking up and staring at myself in my bathroom mirror, knowing I was fully alive but not really living. I did what I was supposed to! I graduated, got an apartment, got a job. Everything was fine, but why did I feel like everything was so pointless? Is this really what I spent the past decade working towards? The song “bloodstream” feels like a slow buildup, like wanting to scream at your boss—you know you won’t actually do it, but one more unnecessary meeting and you might lose it. The final 30 seconds of “bloodstream” devolves into a fuzzy 90’s-esque guitar meltdown, representing the unraveling of controlled frustration at the world and yourself.

The album continues with arguably my favorite track of the year, “circle the drain.” What Allison does exceptionally well is lyrically capturing inner feelings of dread while sonically capturing the feelings that external factors (whether that be society, family, or peers) tell you you’re “supposed” to feel. “circle the drain” is, on its surface, an upbeat, early 2000s-revival Avril Lavigne pop tune. The lyrics, though, couldn’t be more explicit about the struggle of keeping up appearances when your mental health is deteriorating:

Trying to seem strong for my love, for my family and friends, but I’m so tired of faking Cause I’m chained to my bed when they’re gone, watching TV alone til my body starts aching I think there’s mold in my brain, spreading down all the way through my heart and my body Cause I cling to the dark of my room, and the days thin me out, or just burn me straight through Things feel that low sometimes, even when everything is fine Hey I’ve been falling apart these days, split open, watching my heart go around and around Round and around, circle the drain, I’m going down - Soccer Mommy, “circle the drain”

The idea of being your own worst enemy is a theme explored heavily on color theory. I’m surrounded by people who love me and everything in my life is fine right now, so why do I still feel so terrible? The ever present self-doubt manifests itself in ways that seem unsolvable, and Allison doesn’t attempt to provide an answer. Instead, she expresses the different mirrors she uses to perceive herself: she does this most poignantly in the flipped fantasy of “royal screw up,” where she portrays herself as both the princess and dragon desperately seeking but endlessly denying a lover’s affirmations and support.

You are a mirror Say I’m the fairest of all …’Cause I’m only looking for my skewed reflection in you And I want an answer to all my problems There’s not an answer I am the problem for me now and always - Soccer Mommy, “royal screw up”

A full confrontation of this inner darkness is characterized in “lucy,” which in some ways, could be considered an acceptance of the inescapable despair that exists in all of us:

Succumbing to evil, I thought I could never be I look in the mirror and the darkness looks back at me I can’t help the feeling that irks me That I’m falling down from heaven through the earth To hellfire, to wear his crown - Soccer Mommy, “lucy”

This has been an idea that I’ve struggled with a lot and is why I love this album so much. When I think about the ways I’ve hurt people and acted in ways that I feel are misaligned with my views of myself, the easy way out has been to view the “me” in that moment as a monster, the previously referenced dragon that destroys itself and everyone around it. However, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am the dragon, accepting the pain I’ve caused as opposed to blaming it on an imagined alter ego, and committing to learning from past mistakes. color theory isn’t trying to make a prescriptive statement on mental health, overcoming problems, or becoming a better person. Allison portrays evil as ever present, always taunting us with doubt, and ultimately a part of us: it forces us to look into ourselves and stare into the eyes of the soul in the mirror, contemplating the multidimensionality that makes us human.

[herroyalhighnessqueenmomo]

Faded Memories (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) |Part 1|

A/N: This is an AU where everyone is an adult and living life. Eddie is getting married soon and the reader is having the hardest time with it.

Warnings: This is going to get really dark and pretty angsty in the series. Some cursing. 

God this was the absolute worst thing you probably ever had to go through. You stared at your best friend as he presented the engagement ring to you with the biggest smile on your face. The ring was beautiful. It was really simple, Eddie couldn’t afford something like a Tiffany ring but it was still beautiful and looking at it made your heart swell. Part of you wanted to pretend. Just for a second. That the ring was meant for you. That your best friend was your soulmate and one true love who wanted your hand in marriage. You had to snap out of it. You did your best to give a genuine smile. “Eddie it’s beautiful.” You said. You spoke so softly, hardly above a whisper. It was hard for you to even speak. At least without giving away the pain that would be behind your voice. 

“You really think so? I know its not a big fancy ring but I hope it’ll do for now. I eventually wanna get her the biggest rock out there. She deserves it.” He smiled as he went on gushing about his girlfriend Kendra. You had no idea what you had done to piss off god for them to just torment you with this. Why? Why did you have to be his best friend? Why did you never leave his side? Why did he have to meet Kendra? Why didn’t he ever look at you like the way he did her? You honestly couldn’t even stand her. It wasn’t even because she was with the love of your life, I mean some of it had to do with that, but there was just something about her that made your skin crawl. 

Everything about her just seemed a little...wrong. She seemed a little too...nice? No, that wasn’t it. Kendra wasn’t always that nice, in fact Kendra made it a point to stay away from you. It didn’t make any sense to you but its not like you were honestly going to complain. Sometimes you felt like you were just gaslighting yourself into believing she was a villain and you were playing victim. You were lucky and relieved that your female best friend and confidant in these trying times, Nancy Wheeler, shared the same views as you did about Kendra. Nancy helped you keep yourself together throughout Eddie’s relationship with his girlfriend. She knew you were in love with him. That you had been since you met back in high school. For you it was love at first sight. For him it was just friendship at first sight. You took it though. You loved that you could be close to him. He made you feel special. Having him around actually made you feel alive. Like you weren’t just existing. Eddie Munson was that man who gave you the epiphany that existing and living were truly not the same.

Maybe that was the problem. You never learned to love yourself as you chose to love someone else first. Now you depended on him for your happiness. So when you both graduated and he started playing more gigs with his band Corroded Coffin, when he met Kendra, that’s when your life and light got sucked right out of you. Eddie was over the moon about her but you couldn’t do anything about. What were supposed to do? Surely you couldn’t tell him anything now. He was happy. Maybe happier than he ever was with you. The thought always bothered you but it was a possibility you had accepted. Nancy of course felt the utmost sympathy for you. She held your head in her lap while you watched Little Shop of Horrors together. It was your favorite. You had no idea why, but it was. From then on you braved a face in front of him but would cry to Nancy. At some point she got Robin and Steve involved. She told you it was because she obviously had great disdain towards Kendra but she might have been biased and needed second opinions. It didn’t bother you though. Robin and Steve were great.

They also hadn’t liked Kendra either. So it was then that you knew that it wasn’t in Nancy or your head. Robin was able to put a word to it and referred to her as fake. Then it clicked in all of you like a light bulb or something. She seemed fake but again neither of you knew what to do. This had been a dilemma for the four of you for about of year while in the meantime Eddie was falling in love with her. So now you stood there broken hearted because he planned to propose to her. 

All of these thoughts circled your head as you mustered the best smile you could for someone who’s world was just split in two. “I’m so happy for you Eds.” You said softly. You wanted to be. You really did. He seemed happy. A good friend should be happy that their best friend found love. The problem was that, that love wasn’t you. It was hard to accept. It hurt like a real bitch.

Eddie just smiled widely at you. “Thank you, my love.” He said and kissed your temple. Your heart panged in your chest. It was a term of endearment you were used to. He would always call you his love. He didn’t know though that every time he did, he was breaking your heart piece by piece. You knew you were the love of his life...but it was platonic. Every time you heard him say it though you would kid yourself into believing that his words meant a little more. As if there was a hidden code behind it that you were meant to decipher. That maybe, just maybe, one day he would tell you that you really were his one and only love. Not just as friends. It was much more hurtful this time though. He called you his love when he fully intended on proposing to someone who wasn’t you. The reality was that you may be the love of his life platonically but Kendra was going to be the love that would lay in bed next to him at night. The love to wake up in the morning to see his groggy yet beautiful face. For that you envied her, more than you could possibly say. 

“Y/N, I have something I have to ask you though.” Eddie stated pulling you out of your thoughts for the moment. “Hm?” He held your hands and smiled at you. “Would you be my best man...er woman?” Was he fucking with you? Was he fucking for real? Did he seriously ask you to be his best man? Nay he just made up a new ass role and wanted you to be the best woman. You had no words to say. “I uh...wow.” What the hell could you say. “Well shit beautiful, I didn’t mean to render you speechless.” He chuckled as he joked. “I’m just surprised, is all.” You said quietly. “So will you? Please?” He pouted and gave you some sappy ass puppy dog eyes. The ones that always melted your heart and had you caving in every time he flashed them at you. How could you not? Those big brown soulful eyes? It should have been a crime to make brown eyes look that good. “Alright fine.” You sighed. “Yes!” He leaped up into the air with joy making you laugh against your will. You couldn’t help it. You loved when he was like this, such a dork, but he was your dork. No...Kendra’s dork. “But I refuse to wear a tux that makes me look like a penguin and totally not cute.” You retorted.

He scoffed. “What are you talking about. You look cute in anything that you wear.” He stated. Of course his statement made you blush. You were flattered for the most part but then again your were only viewed as cute by him. If you had it your way you’d look like a god damn sexual threat. Alas god humbled you by making you look like the way you did, cute. Lord knows if you walked around looking and feeling sexy you’d have grabbed Eddie a long time ago and made a move on him because you would have the confidence that he wouldn’t say no to you. You rolled your eyes. “Thanks Munson. I’ll keep that in mind.” You stated. “Hey cute is nice.” He argued. “Mhm. For like a little girl.” You explained. He shook his head. “Not true. Cute is a good thing.” You nodded. “It is.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I-Is Kendra cute?” You asked him. You weren’t sure what came over you that made you wanna ask that. He tilted his to the side in thought. “Kendra is different...she’s sexy.” He said. You wanted to vomit. “And suddenly I regret asking.” You replied. “What? Oh come on, of course I’m gonna think my soon be fiancée is sexy. I mean have you seen her?” He asked. You nodded slowly. You really wanted to crawl your way out of this conversation you really didn’t want to have at all. You shifted a little. “Am I...Am I sexy?” You found yourself asking. What the hell was wrong with you. It was like your mouth was moving faster than your mind and you were deadly curious about his views on you. Eddie got really quiet. Eerily quiet. You blew it. You knew that you had. “I mean I wouldn’t say that per say, but um...you two are very different. For one I’m actually attracted to her, and two you’re you.” Ouch. That hurt a lot more than you cared to admit. 

“You don’t think I’m attractive?” You asked. You couldn’t help but to feel really offended. “That’s not what I said. I said I am not attracted to you.” He said trying to defend himself. You furrowed your eyebrows together. “So I am unattractive...to specifically you?” You asked. Eddie just shook his head in disbelief and sheer confusion. “Where the hell is this coming from?” He asked. You just shrugged. “I uh...I don’t know. I’m just trying to pick your brain.” You said. “Well quit it. You’re putting words in my mouth and making me feel like a dick.” He said. You looked down at your feet. You were telling yourself not to break down into tears then and there. “S-Sorry.” You stammered. Eddie sighed. His index finger made it under your chin to lift your head up so you could look at his gorgeous eyes. “Sweetface, you are beautiful in your own way. You have no reason to be insecure.” He said to you. ‘Yeah except for the fact that the guy I’m madly in love with doesn’t find me attractive.’ You thought to yourself. You gave a slight smile. You looked at your watch not actually registering the time. “Oh god its getting late, I should really get going.” You said as you were making your way out of his small apartment.

Eddie pouted. “So soon? I thought we were going to watch your favorite move together?” He asked. You turned around with a bright smile. “You rented Little Shop of Horrors for me?” You asked enthusiastically. He frowned and grabbed the cassette for Gremlins instead. “I thought your favorite movie was Gremlins?” He asked. Your heart dropped after realizing he forgot your favorite movie. “It was. Back when we were like what sophomores?” You asked rhetorically. Eddie seemed disappointed in himself. “O-Oh...right. Sorry.” You felt bad and smiled sweetly at him. “But its still a favorite of mine so I’m sold Munson.” You stated. He looked back up to you with a huge smile. He opened up his arms for a hug. You ran up to him and hugged him. “You’re the best Y/N.” He stated. You took a deep breath. “So I’m told.”

***************************

“He forgot your favorite movie?” Robin asked. You were all hanging out at Family Video that following day. “Well that’s kind of shitty. Especially since you know his is Elvira: Mistress of the Dark.” Nancy turned to look at her. “Is that really your take away from this? She just told you that the guy she has been in love with plans on proposing to his girlfriend.” She stated. Robin held her hands up in defense. “What are you going to do Y/N?” Steve asked you. You shrugged. “What am I supposed to do? He’s in too deep.” You replied. Robin tilted her head a bit in contemplation. “Well there isn’t on his finger yet so its not too late yet.” She argued. 

“To do what?” You asked in frustration. “You know I can’t say anything to him. I just can’t. We’ve been going over this shit for a year now. We’ve got nothing. He isn’t attracted to me. He said so himself. It would be a waste of my time and I’d rather not face that heartache and risk him hating me.” You explained. Your heart was already hurting just thinking about it. “Well at least find a way to get him to not marry her. He is gonna stuck marrying a pretentious prissy bitch.” Robin stated as if it was a good reason. Granted it was. Any reason to get him to not marry her was a tremendous reason. “Yeah I’ll find that perfect method in the corner of Unicorns and Forsaken dreams.” You said sarcastically. 

The door of Family Video swung open. The four of you looked over to see Eddie and Kendra. Eddie had the biggest smile on his face. It broke your heart seeing it because he never smiled at you like that. She really did make him happier than you ever did for him. “We’re engaged! ”They said in unison like it was rehearsed or something. It made you sick. “Oh my goodness! What a surprise! Y/N can you believe this?” Robin oh so obviously mocked her shock. “Actually Y/N was the first person I told. She’s gonna be my best...woman.” He said. Kendra looked at him almost too quickly. “Really a woman as a groomsman? Don’t you think that’s a little, I don’t know tacky?” She asked. You almost wanted to kick her shin right then and there. Eddie was a little uneasy not wanting to upset his fiancée. “I don’t know, I just thought cause she’s my best friend that she sh-” He stopped talking as soon as he noticed her facial expression obviously showing her disapproval. “You know what you’re right my love.” It was like you had just gotten shot right through your chest. You knew you weren’t his only love. You of course knew but you never heard him call her that before and just hearing him refer to anyone, especially her to his love made you physically ill. “Stevie why don’t you be my best man?” Eddie asked looking at Steve. 

Steve seriously did not want part of this shit. He didn’t want to be in the middle of the shit show that was your non existing love life and the downward decline going warp speed that was your emotions. “Oh I uh...” Kendra clapped. “Perfect! Steve you’ll be the perfect best man!” She said with her annoying enthusiasm. She then turned to look back at Eddie. “Oh baby I can’t wait to marry you.” She said with a weird baby voice. “Me either lovely.” He said as they shared an eskimo kiss and then actually kissed. 

Robin then audibly gagged. You turned to look at her as she snickered. “Uh guys as much as I thoroughly enjoy whatever the hell this is, we have a strict, no PDA policy, so if you could please not. Thanks.” She said interrupting them. It was your turn to snicker. Kendra turned and looked absolutely pissed. “Okay for that you’re officially not a bridesmaid.” She stated. Robin gasped. “Oh no, what am I to do?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Come on sweetness, lets go back to my place so we can celebrate.” He said to her a little to suggestively for your taste. “Aww but I wanted to rent Endless Love.” She complained. “Again?” He asked almost annoyed. “Yeah again, is that a problem?” She asked. Eddie put his hands in his pockets as he looked over at you hoping you had an answer for him. You so desperately wanted him to realize that you were the answer to his puzzle. He looked back at her. “How about Little Shop of Horrors?” He suggested. She scoffed. “Really a musical about a plant? We’re not five Eddie.” She snapped. “We’re renting Endless Love or I won’t do that thing you like.” Kendra threatened with whatever it was that you really didn’t wanna know what she meant. Eddie cleared his throat. “Okay. Fine. We’ll rent Endless Love.” He caved in.

He walked over to the romance section and grabbed the movie and placed it on the counter. Steve walked over to the register. “You still have Gremlins. You need to return it.” He said as he looked Eddie up on the computer. Kendra looked over at him. “When did you watch that creepy movie?” She asked him. Was this bitch just going to really diss all of your favorites now? “Last night after I told Y/N I was gonna propose.” He said. He pulled the movie from his jacket and placed it on the counter. “You two watched it together?” Something about the way she said that made it seem like it bothered her. “Um...yeah. We hadn’t watched a movie together in a while.” He replied. She practically just scoffed in dismay. The store was uncomfortably quiet. Steve was just trying to make quick work of the return so he could get them the hell out of the store. He knew damn well if Kendra said anything else ridiculous Robin was going to lose it. Steve handed Eddie the receipt to the romance movie he rented. With that the couple finally left. 

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times, but I hate that bitch.” Robin stated finally breaking the silence. 

“Yup.”

“Yeah.”

“The worst.”

You all said in agreement. Robin then turned to you. “You see? This was a perfect display of why you should get him not to marry her.” You rubbed your arm truly unsure about it. “I don’t know he looked pretty damn happy when he came in. I’ve never seen him smile like that. At least not to me.” You tried to come up with an excuse. Nancy shook her head. “Actually not true. He has definitely smiled at you like that plenty of times before. Especially after Hellfire nights when the two of you would skip right out of the school all the way to his van.” She said. “Okay that was just because he was successful in tormenting the boys during the campaigns. That had nothing to do with me.” You denied. She thought hard for another example. “What about when you two came to the prom together?” She asked. You shook your head. “No he was already high before that. Don’t think that counts.” She frowned. “Okay but what about-” 

“Nance.” You said sternly cutting her off. “You know I adore you, but just stop. Okay? I’m fine. At least I will be. I’m not going to ruin my best friend’s relationship if I can’t make him any happier.” You stated sadly. Robin scoffed. “Are you kidding? He’s not happy. That bitch has him pussy whipped!” She exclaimed. You gasped and laughed a bit. “Robin!” “What? It’s true. That’s all it is. That is not real happiness.” She argued. You shook your head. “I don’t know he looked pretty happy to me.” 

“Okay Y/N, do you not see what I’m trying to do here? I’m trying to instill rage into you. She stole your man!” Robin tried to instigate you. You gave her a look. “Eddie was nev-” “He might as well have. You two have spent an unhealthy amount of time together.” She said making you laugh.

****************************************************

Two months had passed and you hardly saw Eddie. Kendra was practically up his whole ass trying to get everything planned picture perfect for the wedding. Eddie wanted you to be there but to Kendra you were apparently a distraction that warranted the risk of putting them behind schedule. She wanted them to get married by the end of the month. It was like a ticking bomb except when the timer went off it meant your heart was going to shatter and you wouldn’t be able to emotionally survive it. You sat in your room. In the past two months you oddly were inspired to start writing a song. You weren’t exactly sure at the moment what you were going to name it but you knew how it would go. It pained you because no would could hear it. It was for the best. It was almost too obvious what it was about. You heard the phone ring and you walked over to it to pick it up. “Hello?” You answered. “Hey precious.” You smiled widely. “Eddie!” You heard him let out a soft laugh. “Did you miss me?” He asked you. 

You giggled. “Oh. Only a little.” You said. He gasped. “Only a little? Tryna break my heart love?” You snorted a bit. A sound he grew fond to hear. “I would never.” You responded. “So why’d you call?” You asked. “Because I miss you. Duh.” He said in a very matter of fact tone. “Sorry. Its just been so long, I just figured you might need something.” You concluded. He scoffed. “Well damn you make it seem like I only come to you when I need you.” You stayed quiet. Didn’t he? Sure you loved him but the last time he called you was for you to come over to his place for a favor. That was when he wanted your opinion on the ring. “I was actually calling to invite you to my bachelor party.” He stated. “Really? Is that okay with Kendra?” You asked as you tried to make a subtle jab at his fiancée. “It doesn’t matter, it’s my bachelor party. I think I reserve the right to have my best friend there.” Eddie responded. It made you smile at the idea that Eddie would seemingly defy Kendra’s wishes against you partying with him.

“Not so sure if I wanna hanging out with a bunch of guys and strippers.” You thought out loud. “Nah, no strippers. Just gonna go out for some drinks and hang out at the Hideout. Don’t think it would be the same without you.” He said. You took a deep breath. “Okay yeah I’ll go.” He seemed to cheer. “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He asked. The question took you aback. “Well with that kind of hesitation that obviously means I don’t. Y/N, I love you more than a kid loves ice cream.” He said and chuckled. Your heart panged. “More than your guitar?” You asked. Obviously not. You thought. “That’s not even a serious question.” He replied. You knew it was a dumb question. “You’re obviously worth more than my guitar.” He added. His response truly surprised you. “I am?” 

“I must not make it obvious enough.” Eddie said a little sad to hear you question your value to him. “Y/N, you’re my second favorite person.” You were second. “And the first?” You asked. “Well if you hadn’t noticed I’m engaged to this gorgeous woman and I’d have to say she’s definitely number one.” He said sounding very sure of himself. It hurt that you weren’t his first choice. You weren’t surprised at all though. You were used to not being anyone’s first choice, especially not his.  

[thetraingotsetonfireonmidnight]

🚨!!POTENTIAL SPOILERS AHEAD!!🚨

Hi, I was wondering if I could request headcanons about fem!reader reacting to Bakugou’s death. Like she’s there fighting with him and he dies in her arms?? And the reader just absolutely wipes the floor with the villains that killed him??? If not that’s totally fine 😁😁. Thank you and have a good day x

I most certainly can do that for you ;) have a great day anon!

Warnings: Character death, blood and injury, admittedly so overpowered y/n, manga spoilers (not completely accurate to canon! Added more villains)

𝔅𝔞𝔨𝔲𝔤𝔬𝔲 𝔇𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔣𝔢𝔪!𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔰 (there's no mentions of the readers gender though so honestly anyone can read this)

It all happened so fast you couldn't think.

You knew you should've told Bakugou to stay back.

Half of his face was torn, blood tricking down his face.

One of his gauntlets were completely destroyed and his arm was crushed. It dangled at his side awkwardly.

He should've stayed down. He should've waited for Deku to get there. He should've given up and accepted his failure.

Had it been anybody else, they would have thrown in the towel. It was suicide to keep fighting under such harsh conditions.

But it hadn’t been anybody else, it had been Bakugou...

And Bakugou never accepted defeat. He had sworn once that he would rather die than lose, and those words would become true.

Despite your screams for him to stop, he continued to fight Shigaraki.

He jumped after him, dodging his attacks and attacking him whenever he saw an opening.

For someone who was barely clinging onto life, he was doing well,

but his luck soon ran out once Shigaraki landed a hit on his heart.

And as his body flew back from impact, his head weakingly falling to the side after he hit the ground, and his All Might card fell out of his pocket and landed next to his head...

Everyone knew his fate had been sealed.

You ran over to him, propping his head up in your lap.

Your costume had small rip and tears, your own blood seeping out of the many wounds that were scattered across your body.

You wiped some blood off of his face, your tears taking its place as you wept.

You begged him to come back, you pleaded for him to get back up because you couldn't go on without him. You refused to believe that you'd have to go on in life without him. All of the promises he made, the doings he claimed he'd do the second he'd graduate...did they mean nothing now? Had it been all in vain? Had he wasted his breath?

For a moment– a small moment– you could've sworn you saw Katsuki look at you. His eyes held life behind them in that small moment. He looked at you. His mouth opened, as if he were trying to say something.

You leaned in closer, hoping to be able to translate his distorted whispers.

But then the moment ended, and his eyes went back to stare at the heavens above.

Best Jeanist confirming that there had been no pulse was the final nail in the coffin.

He had died, and you didn't even get to know what his last words to you were.

Your whole world crumbled right there and then.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to end.

The man who declared so loudly that he would become number one had been killed before he had been able to graduate.

His dream had been stolen from him, and if the six year old Katsuki knew that his story would end here, he would've thrown away that unsigned All Might card right there and then.

Anger bubbled in your chest.

You weren't thinking. All you knew was that you were in pain. Everything hurt and you wanted it to end.

Acting off of instinct, you stood up.

Running past the big three, you used your quirk to land blows on the villains that surrounded you.

You saw red, as you zeroed in one villain. One punch after another, blood stained your fist.

You didn't even know if the guy was still alive, and a part of you didn't care-

Because the second you felt another villain hit you, you completely forgot about the lifeless body underneath you

Like flies, you picked them off one by one.

And when you got to Shigaraki, you gave it your everything.

He taunted you the whole way,

"It didn't have to be this way. I made it clear I wanted Midoryia, not him. I'm not going to continue to waste my energy on weaklings like you."

The rage inside you burned brighter with every word he spoke. He wasn't even fighting you properly, dismissing you completely as if you weren't worth his time.

You hated it.

You continued to fight your hardest because God damn it, he was going to see you.

He couldn't destroy your life and then not acknowledge you. You had to give him hell. He had to pay.

As you went to launch yourself at him again, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You looked over to see

"Deku?"

He had made it.

He was late.

A part of you wanted to yell at him. To put the blame on him because if he had gotten here sooner, Bakugou would still be by your side.

But as you opened your mouth to yell, you noticed him

His hair was messy, his suit tattered.

And his eyes...you never thought you'd see them be so devoid of life.

It reminded you that Deku was hurting, just like you were.

You and Deku had never been too close, nor were you two similar in anyway.

But in that moment, your differences were forgotten, because you both had one goal in mind:

Give Shigaraki the whooping of a lifetime.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

A certain redheaded tabloid journalist tracks y/n down at work. Y/n finds out how persistent she is when she makes her an offer she just can’t refuse. 

Trigger warnings: Christianity, stalking, survivor’s guilt

You made it out alive, and that was more than could be said for some. 

Your consolation prize was a ghastly scar on your hand that you kept bandaged up as to not scare small children. You did get some worker’s comp after all; enough to pay for your medical bills and a little extra to make up for the lost workdays. All things considered, you were the lucky one. Four people lost their lives that day and three more were injured far worse than you. You should have felt grateful to be alive.

But somehow that was even worse. You got a couple stitches and some time off. It wasn’t worth four people’s lives. 

Your therapist explained it to you very gently. You were experiencing a phenomenon known as "survivor's guilt". She encouraged you to join a support group, get outside and familiarize yourself with your new experiences. 

This was good advice and all, but yours was the newest, hottest crime. You couldn't go anywhere without being hounded by reporters looking for whatever details you had somehow left out. Dr. Bloom encouraged you to take some time off work until the media circus died down, but you had bills to pay.

"I feel like there should be some rule about re-opening a restaurant within a week of it being an active crime scene." Charissa observed as she wiped down a table. "If anything, it's a health hazard."

"Are you serious?" You scoffed. You'd been tasked with refilling the salt shakers. Appropriate, because there was plenty of salt to go around. "Demand for this place has never been higher. Everyone wants to see if the blood is still on the carpet."

"Hooray for capitalism." She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay, [F/N]?"

"'Okay' is a very relative term." You forced a laugh. "I think I can make it through the shift if that's what you're asking."

"Aren't you behind the bar all evening?" She asked.

"Yeah, but that means I'm trapped." You folded your arms. "First thing you see when you walk in is the waitress who survived the- what are they calling him?"

"The Baltimore Butcher." She answered with a voice full of vitriol. "Do you think they ever consider the ramifications of giving literal murderers these weird superhero names? Like, no wonder we get copycats, they treat these guys like celebrities."

"Holy shit, right?!" You slammed the salt shaker down on the table. "Y'know, last night on the news, they used the creep's graduation photo and kept saying that he was a good Christian young man with a lot of prospects."

Charissa stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I saw that. And how he was 'corrupted' by crack cocaine. Once again, blaming a drug that was used to villainize poor Black neighborhoods in the 80's as some kind of corrupting agent."

You nodded furiously. "Instead of understanding that Christianity is a violent imperialist religion that lets violent white men absolve themselves of any guilt."

"And they knew it wasn't crack." Charissa added. "I heard that shit was completely uncut. You know he spent a lot on it."

"And I will say this until the day I am put in the goddamn ground," you tensed up. "The only reason the fucker escaped is because he is white."

"Hey y'all." Another waitress walked in for her shift. "What are we talking about?"

"Cocaine." Charissa answered. “Also white privilege.” 

"Great." She said dismissively. "Hey [F/N], can I scoop up that bar shift? I could really use the tips."

"Madison!" Charissa scolded. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?" Madison shrugged and glanced at you. "I didn't get any paid time off. I need the money."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Charissa scowled. "Are you seriously joking about her trauma?!"

"It's fine, she can have it." You rolled your eyes, then turned them to Madison. "Just know you're the reason I have survivor's guilt."

"Well now I feel bad." Madison frowned.

"Good." You and Charissa said in unison.

It was sort of comforting to get back to the script. Almost nostalgic. It provided the illusion of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal new reality. 

You approached the first table in Madison’s block, hoping for a new beginning. A young woman with fiery red hair sat alone by the window. 

“Hi!” You greeted, with a smile as genuine as you could muster. “My name is [F/N], I’ll be your waiter tonight.” 

The woman smiled back. “Evening.” 

You couldn’t tell what, but something was off. Perhaps you were trying too hard to force normalcy. Or maybe it was the borderline predatory way the woman was looking at you; like a shark following a trail of blood. Either way, the vibes were rancid. 

“Can I start you off with a drink or is water okay?” You ask. 

“Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of chardonnay?” She asked, lowering her eyebrows. 

“Of course.” You nodded and reached for your pen. 

“Actually,” She corrected herself. “If you could bring a bottle and two glasses, I’m expecting company.” 

“Absolutely.” You scribble the order down on your notepad. “Do you have a preference?” 

She thought for a moment. “Oh, dealer’s choice. Whatever you prefer.” 

You soon returned to her booth with a bottle of your favorite chardonnay and two stemmed glasses. You poured a small bit in one glass to let her taste. 

“You have wonderful tastes.” She complimented, filling her glass. “It’s very delicious.” 

You rocked on your heels. “Would you like to place your order now, or do you want to wait until after your guest arrives?” 

“Actually,” she repeated, filling the other glass. “My guest is already here.” 

She slid the glass across the table and gestured to the other seat. 

You felt stupid, but there was no way to avoid this. You couldn't just not do your job. She cornered you by the confinements of your profession.

"I really can't, I'm on the clock." You said, apologetically. The wine beckoned you. "I'm sorry, maybe another time."

"Oh, bummer." The woman placed her chin in her hand and pouted. "Well, I'm sure there's something that would make your boss look the other way."

She glanced down at your bandaged hand, then met your eyes. "The bandages are a dead giveaway, [F/N] [L/N]."

You then noticed a wire sticking from her pocket. Undoubtedly some kind of recording device. You looked at the ground. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."

"But who will drink all this wine?" She asked, raising her glass.

"Ma'am." Your voice hardened as you tried to bite back an overwhelming rage. "Please leave the restaurant. I'm not going to ask you again."

Your manager, Matthew, passed by. "What's going on here?"

"This waitress is being very rude." The woman complained. "I ordered chardonnay, and she brought me chablis."

"Chablis is a type of chardonnay." You corrected. Even you found it strange that this was the hill you were willing to die on. "She asked for my preference, and I prefer the unoaked varieties."

Matthew looked confused. "Well, she's right."

You gestured to her pocket and he caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes. "Ma'am, please leave the premises or I'll be forced to call the police."

The woman stood up, rummaged through her pockets and slapped a handful of bills down on the table. She then proceeded to drink both glasses of wine and walk away.

Matthew looked at you apologetically as he collected the bills. "Are you sure you want to be here tonight? I can call in someone to cover for you."

You shook your head and grabbed the bottle by its neck. "No, it's okay. I appreciate the concern but I really just want things to go back to normal."

"Hey!" A woman from the adjacent table called out. You prepared to immediately recant your statement about not going home.

"We like chablis." The woman said, gesturing to herself and her friend.

Her friend joined in. "And if that nosy reporter lady isn't gonna drink it..."

You glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. "Sure. It's yours."

The women exchanged delighted looks as you placed the bottle on their table. Matthew handed you a couple of clean glasses and you began to pour.

"For this wine, I suggest any of our wonderful seafood dishes." You explained, your cheeks stinging with a smile. "It also pairs quite nicely with chicken and game bird."

"Thank you." One of the women said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look at the menu, please."

"Of course." You nodded. "Just flag me down whenever you're ready."

"This is why I put you behind the bar, by the way." Matthew gently scolded you as you collected the soiled glasses.

"Didn't you hear?" You said. "Madison needs the money because we can't all have paid time off."

"You should have come to me first." He sighed. "She has no right to say those things to you."

"Never stopped her before." You shrugged.

"I'll talk with her after the dinner rush." He said. "Just... try not to get cornered tonight, okay?"

"I'll do my best." You answered, flatly. “Because that’s definitely something I can control.” 

The rest of your shift went smoothly, or, as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances. The nosy reporter was right, your bandage was a dead giveaway. You had to dodge a couple of questions, but most people had enough decorum to know the wound--metaphorical and literal--was still fresh. 

You said goodbye to Matthew and Charissa, collected your things and walked out to your car. You put the key in the ignition, only to find your gas tank was completely empty. You had just filled it that morning. 

You bit back a scream and fought the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. Throwing the door open, you mentally prepared yourself to either make a long trek to the nearest gas station, or beat someone up.

“Looking for this?” A smug voice said over the cicadas. 

You turned around and saw the nosy reporter from before holding up a canister. A deep, blistering fury overtook your face as you slammed the car door. “You siphoned my fucking gas?” 

 “It’s not like you left me with much choice, [F/N].” She crossed her arms. “You’ll get it back once you answer my questions.” 

You threw your head back in disbelief. “You’re Freddie Lounds, aren’t you?” 

“I see I’m not the only one who does my research.” She said, looking a bit impressed. “How’d you know?” 

“It’s the first thing that comes up when you search ‘unethical crime journalists Baltimore’.” You answered. “There’s a whole flair dedicated to you on the subreddit for murder survivors.” 

Freddie seemed proud of herself. “Need a ride?” 

“I’d rather drive off a cliff.” You said, honestly, before turning around to leave. 

“Where are you going?” She walked after you. 

“To get more fucking gas, you evil bitch.” You shouted back. “Are you gonna follow me to the BP too?” 

“Look, I heard what you were saying to your friend.” She called out. “About white privilege.”

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same privilege that allows you to siphon a stranger’s gas and sit in a parking lot all night without getting arrested.”

“And I agree with you.” She hurried to your side, her chunky platform boots clacking against the asphalt. “They did you dirty and they’re shooting themselves in the foot by not listening to you.” 

You turned around and threw up your arms. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?”

“I invited you to sit down over a bottle of wine, did I not?” Freddie chuckled. 

“Cornering me at work is not a gesture of goodwill.” You huffed. “And I actually do want to put my story out there, but all you’re accomplishing by stalking me is guaranteeing you won’t be the one to do it.” 

“Are you really in a position to be that selective?” Freddie smirked and placed all her weight on one hip. 

You groaned. “What?” 

“The Baltimore Butcher is still out there, and you won’t be the hot new victim forever.” She grinned sadistically. “Soon enough, him or some other psycho is going to strike, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up.” 

“Good. Then I can go back to living my life.” You said. 

“But what if his next victim is a Christian?” Freddie grabbed your shoulder. “What if the next person who narrowly avoids getting their throat slashed decides to go on record and say that he doesn’t represent ‘real Christianity’?” 

You went quiet. You hadn’t considered it, but the thought of anyone downplaying his faith as a motivation made your blood boil. You looked into the man’s eyes and saw a person driven to kill for his god. A god he shared with the crusaders, conquistadors and slavers. 

“...but it does. Christians colonized half the planet for--” 

You stopped yourself when you saw Freddie’s smile. 

“You want to get on your soapbox, now’s your chance.” She bit her lip. “Take control of the conversation while you still can.” 

“Fine.” You spat. “I get off work tomorrow at four.” 

Freddie shoved the gas can into your hands. “I’ll see you then.” 

[specsforwoo]

Chemical Hearts | Mafia!Mark Lee

Okay, so, this is a collaboration between myself (@specsforwoo) and the author (@marshmellowmin) please support us as we continue to release content related to the overall theme that can be found on my/their blog. Thank you!

If you could go back in time to tell yourself one thing, it would be this. Never, ever, ever, move to Korea. Whatever dream you have isn’t worth chasing, and definitely not worth the 40.000.000 won it took to get you into this situation. Cheaply used expensive perfume filled your lungs while cigar smoke stung your eyes. The dim lighting was barely enough to see your own two hands in front of you, much less the cards you were supposed to be focusing on.

Slender digits tapped the table across from you to grab your attention. Looking up, you focused on the young man’s maroon corduroy jacket, too aware of the apathy that sat in his eyes. A small smirk played on his lips and he glanced between your cards and trembling eyes. “Not the best poker face you got there, love.” The sickly sweet nature of the voice that rang out caused your heart to drop to your feet and your stomach to rise to your throat.

You tried your best to steel your voice, though you imagine it was of no use to the man in front of you. “How do you know I’m not just putting on an act?”

“Desperate people don’t put on acts.” His words were short, and stabbed into your sides like a dagger of such length. “Though, I do find they are much more willing to comply at the hands of their debtors.” The smirk shifted into a full blown smile as he leaned the oak chair back on its hind legs to prop his feet onto the equally expensive poker table. “One chance.”

“One chance?”

“One chance. Those are the terms that you agreed to come here on. One chance to play against me. One chance to beat me. One chance to walk out of here 40.000.000 won richer - or in your case; just breaking even.” His feet moved and the legs of the chair slammed back down onto the floor with a heavy thud. Leaning over the table, his cherry red hair was illuminated under the light. “One chance of escaping Korea alive. You blew it.”

The same slender fingers that brought you back to reality before now reached across the table to pluck the playing cards from your shaking grasp. “Not a single winning card in sight, too bad those Americans won’t get to see the return on their investment any time soon.”

Your body stood on full alert. How much time would it take you to run past him and out the door opposite of you? Surely there were guards behind it, but maybe the sudden movement would startle them enough into giving you a slight head start.

“However, I am such a generous shark you see, I prefer to stay vegan in all of my dealings. So I guess there won’t be any blood spill today.” Sitting back down, he flipped his own cards over one by one to reveal a royal flush. “You didn’t even have luck on your side to begin with.”

Emerging from the shadows, a young man who looked to be the same age as the one sitting across from you, laid down a file on the table. Instead of retreating to his previous spot, he now stood perched behind the gambler, one hand resting on an object protruding from his hip as his eyes never left your center of mass. Flipping through the pages, the gambler muttered to himself before landing on a certain one. “ Y/L/N Y/N. 21 years old. No mother or father in contact with the target. Moved to Korea at 18 years old after being accepted for international study. Early admittance and graduate from KAIST with a major in biochemical engineering and a minor in physics. Fluent in 4 languages: English, Korean, Mandarin, and Cantonese. Youngest female scientist to work in vaccine development in the federal laboratories. Now, broke, disgraced, labelled a danger to the scientific community, and completely and utterly… lost.” He flipped the manila folder closed. “Does it seem like I missed anything?”

Before you had a chance to speak up and for him to reply, a loud buzz came from the shadow man’s pocket. The redhead diverted all of his attention to the person behind him. A few seconds of small talk went by before they both shifted their gaze back to you, and the shadow man placed his phone back where it was before returning his hand to rest on what you now knew was a holster. “Well, I don’t think I need to hear your answer now anyways, though I would appreciate more information any time.” His smirk transformed into the bright smile again, this time as he leaned down to shove all of the chips on the table in your direction. “This should be more than enough to cover your debt and buy new clothes and necessities. I’ll see you outside.” And with that, both the red-head gambler and stoic gun-wielder left you in the room alone with the croupier, who until now, made himself little known.

The croupier silently handed you a slip before walking to the door and escorting you to the cashier in the main room of the casino. Here, the smoke was much stronger and the sound of slot machines and patrons shouting bids much louder. Still, you were much too in a daze, and far too hurried by the pace of the croupier to focus on anything else. Looking down at the slip he handed to you, you just about fainted then and there. 80.000.000 won. Next to it, the seal of a Red Ace, the signature mark of the gambler from earlier.

Picking up your pace, you caught up to the croupier right as they reached the cashier’s window. Sliding over the slip, the person behind the counter gave a quizzical eye before noticing the stamp that accompanied the handwriting of the croupier. Quickly, they turned around and disappeared into a back room before returning 2 briefcases, one of which had handcuffs linked around it. The croupier grabbed the bags before clasping the free cuff of the linked case around your arm. Then, they led you out an employee’s exit into the back parking lot of the casino.

Waiting there was the same gambler and shadow man from before, but this time, another individual leaned against the wall with them. He had a different air about him. Much less threatening and more calm. The dyed chestnut hair was cut into an undercut, while he wore bomber jacket over a plain army green shirt and black jeans. He appeared to be swaying to some sort of music while the other two conversed amongst themselves, and he only looked up at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

The redheaded gambler straightened up before slipping something into the croupier’s hand, and the employee retreated back into the casino from the same door you exited. “Handcuffs? Do you really think I’m going to take away the money I willingly gave to you?” He snorted.

“I- I’m not the one who put them on. The dealer did it before we walked out here.” You doubled-taked, still not fully understanding the situation at hand.

“You’re lucky I have the key, or else you would be stuck in those things.” He leaned down and produced a thin metal key from his pocket, dropping gum wrappers to the ground in the process. “There.” You heard a click, and the cuff fell from your wrist to the side of the briefcase. “Also, all that money. Consider it a gift from S-NCT and Johnathon Suh. Your American debtors have already been dealt with accordingly. We truly are sorry for the trouble.” He gave a sarcastic bow, straightening up to fix the collar of his jacket.

“I’m… free to leave?” The shock apparent in your voice, you had come here fully prepared to become a fugitive, or end up in a casket.

“Ehhhh. Not exactly. You’re not being hunted by the American government or the Korean mafia now, if that’s what you mean. But you can’t go home.” His way of talking was much more relaxed from the tone he used in the private room, much more - friendly?

“What do you mean I can’t go home? If I’m no longer in trouble, why can’t I leave?” You were starting to mentally catch up on the twist of events that had occurred so suddenly. “My debts are paid, aren’t they?”

“Sure, but now you are technically property of S-NCT and will be working for us from now on, though I don’t think you should have a problem with our professional accommodations, I hear they even rival the KAIST laboratories.” He snickered in the direction of the new man, who had since taken out his earphones and was now wholeheartedly focused on the conversation at hand.

“I don’t work for anyone, and I definitely don’t work for you. I barely know you!” You took two steps back at an automatic reaction to his words.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He sang out, and only now did you realize that the shadow man from before had also moved, only now, his gun was drawn and he was moving to aim. “And if you want an introduction so bad, all you had to do was ask, I just figured you didn’t care much for first impressions, or else I would have introduced myself before the game. I’m the Red Ace. Of course, you already know that, but you can just call me Hyuck.” He smiled and held out his hand. Receiving no response from your end, he raised a brow at his palm before dusting it off on his jeans and placing it back into his pocket. “This is Jaemin. He won’t hurt you… probably.” Hyuck jerked his head in the direction of the shadow man. “And this is Mark Lee. Alum of your alma mater as well, and quite the disgraced scientist if he does say so himself.” This time, he pointed to the man to his left, the newcomer. “I’m sure you two will get along great!”

“There is no greatness to be had with getting along. I told you, I don’t work for you.” You were now fully standing your ground, having come to terms with the current scene.

“Well, then I guess you can just say goodbye to a whole laboratory to yourself, freedom to experiment as you see fit, and you know, the yearly salary that you are holding half of in your hands, too.” Hyuck smiled again, this time turning on his heels and walking towards a parked van in the distance, Jaemin following behind him. “Ask Mark though, I know he seems to think that he has been treated well by our offers.” He called out.

“You know full and well that you could never hope to find money like that anywhere else. Here, or abroad. Plus, the freedoms are pretty nice. I would consider taking it.” Mark spoke up, his voice much different from what you were expecting to hear from him. “And an amazing scientist like yourself shouldn’t give up on years of vaccine research like they made you do. Just saying.” And he too was walking towards the van, while you stood dumbfounded in the same spot you stopped in.

You don’t know what had overcome you, but after about 30 seconds of standing there, you broke out into a run towards the van, only stopping once your hand had prevented the sliding door from closing. Jaemin opened the door again, while Hyuck sat in the front passenger seat, smirking. “You said I can continue my vaccine research?” You breathed out.

Mark looked at you incredulously. “I said you could continue doing any research you wanted.”

“Just the vaccine research. Once I finish it, I’m leaving.”

“Just get in the car!” Hyuck yelled, the man in the driver’s seat beside him reaching over to slap him upside the head. “Please… get in the car.” He corrected, giving a sneaky snarl to the man who had delivered the blow.

Now, you just had to wait to see your new lab.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

are you going to do another part to the sky request? i would love it 🤍

Intertwining - part one

Pairing: Sky x reader

===============================

Y/N had thought it to be a fever dream. Seeing Silva getting arrested, Rosalind standing there along with Stella’s mother, Andreas being alive and then her mother joining the insanity? So many questions running through her mind yet she had no time to properly process it - not when Sky’s entire life was imploding.

His hand tightened its hold, his body rigid. He couldn’t do anything, just watch as everything went up in flames and usually she’s an expert in putting out fires but this was beyond her abilities. All she could do is stand there and hold his hand as his jaw clenched.

“Sky”, she whispered softly, avoiding her mother’s glare. She wouldn’t focus on the ice queen she was tormented by, she’d focus on the sunshine of her life - she’d focus on Sky.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Sky mutters under his breath, heaving. She could tell he’s filled with rage, the kind of rage he cannot display because his hands are tied - he cannot do anything to change the current, only swim and hope he doesn’t drown.

“Keep your cool and play nice until we figure out a way to help Saul.” Y/N cups his cheeks, tilting his head down to look her in the eye. This time when he looked at her and saw the icy glow, Sky wasn’t afraid - he was glad. 

For a moment, he hoped she’d sprout wings again and use her ability to save Silva. Then the guilt set in, because if that were to happen she’d be the one taken away. He couldn’t imagine losing her.

“Don’t leave me”, he pleads and no, he doesn’t mean for her to not leave him ever, just now. He couldn’t handle this without her. Sky didn’t have a chance to tell her the truth about his father just yet and seeing he’s alive, he wasn’t sure if that would create problems for him now. He knew Andreas would certainly want to talk to him, Sky just didn’t know if wanted to talk to him; now or ever.

“You know I won’t”, Y/N reassures him, trying to understand what is going through his mind. Never before had she wished she was a mind fairy. If she were one, she’d be able to feel what he does, she’d be able to take away any pain this situation caused him. 

Nodding, Sky leans into her touch. He sighs, trying to let go of the anger he holds not only toward his father, but Saul too. If Saul had just done what he’s been teaching him his whole life, if he had just followed his orders that day and acted like a good soldier, none of this would be happening now.

“I believe you and I have plenty to talk about”, the queen of Dyamond raises an eyebrow, standing behind her daughter and now it’s Y/N who tenses up.

Turning to face her mother, Y/N narrows her eyes ever so slightly, “Since when do you care to talk? Am I not just a problem you have to manage?” 

Folding her arms across her chest, Y/N almost smiles as her mother’s annoyance surfaces. Sky places his hands on her shoulders for support and she purses her lips as her mother raises her eyebrows.

“You’re my daughter, but you are also my subject. Treat your queen with respect.” The sharpness in her tone only amuses Y/N. She might have been weaker when she was younger, but she wasn’t weak anymore.

“You do realize I’ll be taking the throne as soon as I graduate?” Y/N steps closer, smirking as he mother furrows her eyebrows. “You’re only a regent, but I’m the Queen. You should pay me more respect.”

And that’s when Sky understood why Y/N never wanted anyone knowing she’s a princess or of her powers. She didn’t talk about her family much either, much less of her kingdom. The issues between her mother and Y/N run deep and Sky couldn’t help but wonder why. What could have caused this kind of hatred between them?

“Son?” As Andreas joined the conversation, Sky pulled Y/N back into his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“My name is Sky”, he corrects Andreas, trying to keep his voice leveled. “And my girlfriend and I have classes to attend.” 

Beckoning Y/N to walk, Sky turned them both away from their parents and half dragged her inside. He didn’t stop walking, making Y/N run to catch up with him and only once they walked into an empty classroom did he stop and let go of Y/N’s hand.

“I can’t do this”, Sky breathes out, hiding his face in his hands. Y/N embraces him, her cheek resting on his back as her arms circle around his form. She held onto him as his heart beat strongly against the palm of her hand.

“You can.” She furrows her eyebrows, fighting tears. She can feel how much pain he’s in even without being a mind fairy now. “I’ll help you.”

“He’ll take me to Eraklyon”; Sky raises his voice slightly, “He’ll take me away from you.”

“And my mother will try to take me back to Dyamond where she can control me, but we won’t let them.” Y/N wets her lips before releasing Sky from her hold. 

“Why’d you stop hugging me?” Sky furrows his eyebrows and pouts, turning to her as if he’s offended. 

She managed a small smile for his sake, playfully sticking her tongue out at him. Sky chuckles, reaching out for her and easily taking her by the hand. For a moment, he loses himself in her eyes and in that moment it feels as if the whole world is right - as if none of it happened and it’s just him and Y/N, two people in love.

“I want you to know I love the way you laugh”, she purses her lips, “And the way you pout and the way your hand feels so warm against mine.” Stepping closer, Y/N looks to his chest only to place a hand over it, “And I love the way your heart beats when we are close.”

“You’re gonna make me blush”, Sky smirks, leaning down. His forehead rests on hers and he can tell she’s putty in his hands. “But why are you telling me all of that?”

“Because I believe in us.” She brushes her lips against his and a shiver runs down his spine.

“Yeah?” He breathes out, his mind clouded by the thought of her. He loved touching her, being close enough to feel the lilac perfume she adores so much.

“You’re the one for me, Sky. I feel it.” Admitting it to herself was daunting yet saying it felt so easy, as easy as breathing.

“I feel it too”, he whispers as his hand cups her left cheek, his fingers resting just under her earlobe. He tucks her hair behind her right ear with his other hand, making sure he has a proper view of her face.

“Trust me when I tell you we’ll find a way to make things right.” 

“I trust you”, Sky states as he pecks her lips. “I trust you”, he repeats before he presses a soft kiss to her bottom lip. "Even in the brightest sun this world is stone-cold unless you are there with me."

So, in the intimacy of the classroom, Y/N and Sky made a promise to one another - to trust and love one another and to forge their own paths. Because even in the midst of evil surrounding and infiltrating Alfea, they would find a way to keep fighting. As long as they’re together, they believe they can do anything.

[ymaohoh]

Howl - Hellcheer Fic - Oneshot

Eddie and Chrissy die. Eddie and Chrissy live. Season 5 Hellcheer ft. time travel Eddie POV Lots of angst, sorry.

Word count: 6,977

Also on Archive

This was inspired by this fic by "WORTHLESS PRAYERS OF A NON-BELIEVER" by @cunninghamschrissy

--

If you could only see the beast you've made of me

And what a fucking way to go.

Eddie knew he was dying. Knew it as soon as the demobats’ teeth first sank into his flesh and consumed him piece by piece. It was a pain like he’d never experienced before, sharp and unforgiving and relentless, and by the time they were done (having finally taken their fill) he was begging anyone - anything - for sweet release. The thunder and lightning in the sky above seemed to absorb his screams. It was all very punk rock and metal. A fitting ending for someone like him really. 

But Henderson was safe and back through the portal, the little fucker. He’d bought them time (like a hero). That was the main thing. 

As Eddie’s soul trickled out of his body in a curious stream of blood-red dust, a lithe figure wrapped in the same crimson strangeness crept towards him. Its steps were soft and deliberate even though the twisted roots and vines of Vecna no longer posed any danger. It turned its head to peer down at him and Eddie recognised with a sudden intensity the graceful line of its body. He knew its gaze. 

(it was the gaze of a siren. Like Medusa she could turn him to stone) 

Eddie found himself trying to speak even though he had no breath left in his lungs. His shredded mouth (once so alive and animated and ready to laugh) lay useless and bloody. Yet he wanted desperately to call out and plead with this angel to stay with him. To offer a last lament he did not deserve. 

An angel with the kindest and saddest eyes he ever saw. 

Did you see that, Chrissy? God damn, that was the best rock show in the history of the world. Better than the Garden. 

You were amazing, Eddie. I’m so proud of you. 

Her lips never once moved yet her sweet voice was a melody. She was kneeling down beside his body and her limbs were smooth and unbroken now, just like she deserved. Something uncurled inside him at the sight of her face, he was so glad to see her now at the end. 

Are we dead?

I think so. Yeah. 

Dazed, he wanted to lift his ruined fingers to her lips. Even in death Chrissy Cunningham had the most beautiful smile, even if it looked like she was weeping. Impossible, surely, if they were no longer alive? 

Yet every tear that ran down her cheek made him die all over again. 

I’m sorry I didn’t save you. I was a real fucking coward. 

It's alright, you saved the others. That’s what matters. 

He could feel himself sinking further and further back into darkness as a little more of his light faded. 

But maybe it was okay because she was here and weeping at the end. It can't be all bad if he was going to the same place as someone like her. 

They weren’t lovers. They weren’t even friends. But she’d wished him luck once at a school talent contest and made him feel on top of the world. 

What was left of his scattered thoughts suddenly imagined him and Chrissy in matching green graduation robes, grinning as they posed for dumb pictures, and then Chrissy laughing as they drove away in his busted van leaving Hawkins far behind. 

It’s not fair. 

It was too soon. This was all too soon. His heart wrenched for all the fucking fantastic possibilities and dreams that now lay wasted. They were still kids and they deserved more than to be the casualties of some fucked up inter-dimensional game of magic and smoke. Like the last embers of a wild bright bonfire, he and Chrissy would fade away when they deserved the chance to grow up, make mistakes, live. Just like kids were supposed to. 

But this sudden bitterness wouldn't change a damn thing and he knew it. He was already dead and so was she…and it was simply too late. So instead he kept his eyes on Chrissy's face and drank her in as his consciousness slowly slipped away. 

And she made him feel safe. This would be his grave and she was keeping watch like a night vigil. 

Chrissy, I want to take you on a date someday, you know? Fireworks, the whole lot. I'll make it real special. Just us. 

Yeah, Eddie. That sounds good. Come on, take my hand. Let’s go…

Eddie wanted to grin and laugh and cry as the figure wrapped her lovely arms around him, her cloak of shimmering red light enveloping and exhausting him completely. 

I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free

**

The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound

And what a fucking way to die. 

But despite logic and reason - and despite what was real - it turned out life wasn’t quite ready for Eddie Munson to tap out just yet. In life he was like a burning torch of fire (burning too brightly for a little town like Hawkins) and he had too much attitude for a trailer trash junkie. But life - the cosmos, fate, whatever - decided that Eddie had an important part to play still and his death was a mistake which had to be set right. So it took hold of his strings like he was a mere puppet and dragged him back to his feet. 

His passing had felt like a gentle reprieve but when he came back to life he did so like a bolt of lightning ready to shake it all up. Eddie was in his element. He wanted to fucking live, damn it. 

Not that he understood any of it and he barely listened to the ‘why’s’ and ‘how’s’. When he awoke (with a breath so deep that made him splutter and his lungs ache) it was Henderson’s hopeful eyes that peered back at him, it was Jim Hopper who helped him to his feet, and Nancy Wheeler who told him about the final push - a fight of epic proportions like the badass battle of Pelennor Fields from Tolkien - which could end the threat of Vecna once and for all. 

They asked him to help so he chose a club with nails and swung it at whatever came his way. His body was still a nasty puzzle of scars and bites and blood, but at least it worked. It could fight. That was enough for now. 

Show him fear now and he would eat it for fucking breakfast. Death had been a cruel savage way to show him exactly what he was capable of. 

Their army - a last alliance of men and elves - was small but it was hurt, it was angry, it was sick of this asshole hurting them and their loved ones. Parents fought for their kids, sisters beside brothers, couples watched each other’s backs. They fought back as one epic team and told Vecna he would never harm or scare them again. 

It was pretty inspirational. If he were a Bard he would dedicate songs to how awesome it all was. Steve Harrington and Hopper were fucking Barbarians, man. 

But Vecna was an asshole. He was cruel. 

So in some desperate attempt to turn the tide, he decided to raise the dead too. He brought back his favourites to be pawns in this fucked up game of chess. It was horrific, terrifying, and he dangled these poor souls before him like a shield, reasoning that Eddie and the others would never harm or attack their friends.

It was a safe bet. When Eddie first beheld Chrissy at Vecna’s side (her beautiful face so stiff and lifeless) he’d wanted to tear Vecna apart with his bare hands. Wanted to rip his throat out with his teeth and nails. That kind sweet Chrissy should be used again by this creep - to hurt, to suffer, to harm them - was like a taunt. No one would move against these souls for fear of harming them, not even when Vecna commanded them to attack.

Mike Wheeler made some hushed comment about the X-Men Apocalypse comics and, yeah, Vecna picked his Four Horseman alright. Chrissy was pestilence - she was draining the life from him. 

He would not hurt her, not even if she started gnawing him into pieces of bone and flesh (again). 

They moved like puppets, twisting and turning where Vecna wanted them. 

But Vecna underestimated Chrissy. He underestimated Barb, Fred, and Patrick. They fought back against his iron will (steel against iron and iron cracked and yielded) and broke free from his control. Their unwillingness to submit was like a Warrior’s rallying call. 

(and now they had their army of the dead - their Dead Men of Dunharrow - so metal) 

Eddie fought like a demon, ripping open demobats and creatures alike, using his club and shield to smash through their ranks. Beside him Chrissy fought like a woman scorned and burned like a shooting star. She moved in a blur, kicking and biting and wielding a handaxe, her long hair stained red with blood. He’d called her an angel before - and she still was - but now she was an avenging angel (a Valkyrie) reigning down fire and carnage. 

She was fighting for her life, yes, but it ran deeper than mere life or death now. She was pissed. She was deranged. He had stolen so much from her and she wanted it back in blood. 

Her screams rang out like a war cry (and she’d been silenced for far too long). 

Eddie found himself summoned by that cry and they fought side by side, two people who had no business being in the same reality, and they fought hard. When Eddie was nearly blindsided by a demobat Chrissy pushed him out of the way, and Eddie smashed in the skull of the demogorgon dog that snapped at her leg. Eddie and Chrissy wanted to live. They wanted all the fucking beautiful possibilities and dreams that death wanted to snatch away from them. They refused to be casualties this time. 

She landed a particularly excellent crack to the back of Vecna’s head before Eleven took over. No sound had ever sounded sweeter. 

And you know what? They fucking won. 

As Eleven landed the killing blow (because really, she was the only one who could and should) and Vecna was at last torn apart, the hush that followed was deafening. 

Eddie could hear it ringing in his ears. 

There came frantic hugs and kissing and claps on the shoulder. People were crying. Henderson hugged Eddie so hard he felt like keeling over. 

Panting, he turned to Chrissy but she was standing very very still and staring down at Vecna’s eviscerated corpse. 

She spat on the ground (her spit was holy water, it seared and burned) and turned her back. 

I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground

**

My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in

And what a fucking way to live. 

Life could not possibly resume after such an event, surely, but stubbornly it tried its best. The sun rose the next morning and birds outside his hotel window chirped and sang. The world around them didn’t care about their heartbreak and grief and kept turning like it was any other day - and to the majority of its population who would never know how close they came to ruin, it was. 

(they were being housed by the government - all very hush hush - to be observed, patched up, forced to sign paperwork that demanded their silence)

This is what they had fought for…to wake up and deal with normal human stuff like picking what breakfast cereal to eat and arguing about what radio station to listen to…so why did it feel so shitty and wrong? 

The food tasted like ash. Wayne brought him a box of his old tapes but the lyrics made no sense, the music was off-key. He even brought his beloved guitar but Eddie angrily dashed it against the wall when he realised he no longer remembered even the most basic chords.  

Wheeler read about veterans coming home from war and struggling to cope and said maybe this was sort of similar. They’d been soldiers, right? Child soldiers, but they’d faced more horror than any brain (and heart) could before splintering. And even though they had fucking earned their victory (with blood and sweat and tears), a nasty darkness continued to linger over them like a dark cloud they couldn’t quite shake.

But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer.

Eddie read Tolkien when he was a kid and he loved it (his mom had left all her books when she skipped town - along with a lifetime worth of deep-rooted insecurities), but you know what? Tolkien was shit wrong this time. 

The new day came but it was all wrong. 

It wasn’t just lasting trauma (because damn they were going to rack up some serious therapy bills), it ran far deeper than that. 

Will Byers was the one who eventually spoke up and explained that they had simply come back wrong. 

The poor souls who cheated death were fading every day, and nobody knew how to bring them back. It seemed one could not die and just come back without consequences, even if the cosmos changed its mind. It just didn’t work that way and now they were paying the price. The people brought back said it felt like they were wearing another person’s skin. 

(Vecna’s parting gift - the creep)

The government doctors observed them and monitored their vitals, but they were similarly stumped. How could you fix something that was beyond healing? This wasn’t something that could be stitched up like a wound or treated with antibiotics.

Eddie let them poke and prod but he could feel it in his bones that Will was right. It was like a sickness, a virus weighing him down. His mangled body would heal eventually (though he’d carry the scars all his life) but it still didn’t feel like his body. 

It was worse for those who spent longer in Vecna’s messed up world. Barb rarely came out of the bedroom she shared with Nancy (he could see Nancy flinch every time Barb refused dinner). 

And as for Chrissy…

She sat still for too long and when he looked into her eyes she wasn’t ever really there. He and Robin Buckley and Joyce Byers encouraged her to spend time in the garden, hoping (like idiots) that maybe the sunlight would help like she was some wilting pot plant. Chrissy seemed to become more animated when Eddie was around (he could get her to eat, at least), so he read to her, picked flowers, brushed her long hair and twisted it into messy little plaits. 

Chrissy had done him the honour of being with him at his death, so he would try and repay her kindness by helping her in life. 

(the therapists spoke about ‘emotional bonds’ and ‘codependency’ following trauma but it meant nothing to him)

He watched her, always searching for some sign of life, but the truth was she was slipping through his fingers yet again and he didn’t even have the strength to hold on. 

They weren’t lovers but they were friends now. He knew with unusual certainty that if Chrissy faded away he would follow. 

So they went through the motions of resting, eating, showering. They tried to rebuild and heal. They took vitamins and spoke to therapists. They let the doctors draw blood for tests (though after Chrissy ripped out the needle and screamed not to touch her anymore, he’d snarled at them to leave her the fuck alone). 

Until Eleven offered them a solution. 

There was a chance, she said, that things could go back to the year this all started. 1983 was a fixed point in time before Vecna and if she was right (and she usually was) she could take them all back. 

It sounded crazy - like something from a science fiction movie (seriously, time travel) - but if it worked everything would go back to the way it was in Hawkins and all the people murdered by Vecna over the years (for there were many many more) would get their lives back…but the right way this time. 

There were risks to Eleven and risks that it wouldn’t work. 

But there was also a risk that, by going back, they would forget everything. 

They would forget years of their lives, they would forget each other.

They all glanced at one another - exchanging looks with the people they loved, who they’d fought beside, who had come to be like family - but if it meant saving everyone…? Having another chance?

When it was his turn to vote, Eddie thought about Chrissy and knew it could only be a yes. 

(Steve was going to risk that twinkle he felt for Nancy and the friendships he had with the kids; Nancy and Jonathan were risking all they had in the world; Robin was risking Steve and her new chosen family who accepted her; Will, Mike, Dustin, Lucas…fuck they were risking the best and worst years of their lives and their best friend; he didn’t know exactly what Max’s deal was but the kid looked horrified when it was her turn; then there was Eleven who was risking her life. The only people who looked so fucking sure were the grown ups who said they would risk everything worth a damn for the kids to be safe and… well…kids again) 

Afterwards he knelt by Chrissy’s chair in the garden and gathered her tiny hands in his own. They were pale, shivering, and her grip weak. He could feel the delicate bones click beneath her skin. Nothing like the talons that wielded her axe during battle. 

She was no longer some avenging angel or Valkyrie. This lovely soul before him was a coiling shadow and it made him fucking terrified. 

“I brought you some Jasmine tea,” he murmured (begged, pleaded). “Thought it might help you sleep later. We’ve got Nancy’s copy of Emma to start too…that’ll work if this doesn’t.”

“Nothing can help me anymore, Eddie. You know that.” 

Yeah he did. It made him want to scream, recoil. 

“They’re waiting for you to vote, kid. Has to be unanimous, that’s the deal.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asked. She looked at him with her big blue eyes (better than an arrow - they pierced) but the lack of warmth or spark of life was startling. “If…if this doesn’t work we’ll waste away, won’t we? Like ghosts. I feel like a ghost.” 

Her hands were so cold, even though it was a warm evening and she was wearing one of his old patched sweatshirts. He tried rubbing her fingers between his own and blew on them. 

“If El can pull this crazy plan off, then we’ll go back to 1983 and everything will be normal again. You’ll be back to your old self, you’ll be well again. Promise. It’ll be like none of this shit ever happened.”

And she might not know him. He might not know her. They would be practically strangers again. 

She would go back to being the young pretty freshman climbing the rungs of Hawkins’ social ladder (to one day becoming the established cheer captain and Queen Bee). He would be the freak, the school pariah, mean and scary. They’d pace the same hallways and eat in the same cafeteria but they would not share a smile or a look or a friendly wave. 

He felt sick at the thought, but as long as Chrissy was safe and alive somewhere he could deal. It’s not like he would remember anyway. 

“Most important thing is you’re safe and alive, I’ll risk the rest.”

“Why do you care about me?” 

Eddie pressed his scarred lips against her wrist in a chaste kiss. He tried not to look at the tears that suddenly raced down her cheeks and focused instead on her lips (bitten, sore), her nose (perfect, freckled), and her long hair (wavy, lank and lifeless now). He wouldn’t get the chance to look again. 

He wanted to save it all to memory (maybe the more he looked, the harder it would be for those memories to be ripped away? He needed to lock them away with a key). 

“Because twice now, Chrissy Cunningham, you’ve broken this jaded and miserable heart and showed me kindness I never deserved. First time when you wished a scared little boy good luck when you didn’t have to, and then again when you found him dying and terrified. You stayed with me so I wouldn’t go through that alone. You fucking wept for me, Chriss. I can’t…won’t let you die again.” 

Later Chrissy voted yes too but she refused to look any of them in the eye. 

(they voted a unanimous yes like the big stupid heroes they were)

You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl

**

Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers

And what a fucking way to live (repeat)

Eddie’s brain had always been wired differently so it wasn’t too much of a shock that it refused to follow orders now and forget. It was defiant and clung fast to his memories, arguing against the powers that be it would not let them go. So when he woke up in his bedroom, newly turned sixteen-year-old Eddie Munson did remember. There were admittedly some parts that were murkier than others but overall his memory won. 

(he spent a long afternoon reflecting that maybe this wasn’t such a good thing - but a joint or two calmed him down. He fucking loved the rush he got from it, and the way he picked up his guitar like an old friend and seamlessly started playing some Dio). 

Some of the others remembered too but it was difficult to patch it all together. The ones who could remember felt like assholes for bringing certain things up - because if you could forget, wouldn’t you want to? It seemed crappy to remind them. Some people asked questions and wanted to remember, but some simply chose not to. 

(Barb was one of the ones he never spoke to again. Nancy told them she transferred somewhere close to the ocean).  

There were no rules about how to handle time travel but they muddled through somehow. They each had their own patchwork cloak of memories, some squares overlapping, some missing, some fraying at the seams. They were patient. They were kind. 

It would take time. 

And they had all the time in the world to work it out. That was the best thing. It was 1983 again but this time the world seemed more bright and exciting. Eddie had felt left behind for a long time (his dumbass’ fault really) but now? He had a second chance to get his diploma and fucking make something of himself. 

(he still had nightmares and frequently checked himself in the mirror - no - no bite marks). 

The ones who could (and wanted) to remember felt a pull to stay together. They felt like the survivors of some shipwreck but without any evidence of the wreckage. They became like a family to Eddie who was once without (his uncle was a steadying presence and didn’t ask about the night terrors or why Eddie suddenly tried so hard at school). 

So (fucking wild) Eddie spent most of this school time in the company of Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Robin Buckley, and Patrick McKinney - much to the enormous amusement of other students who couldn’t get their heads round the weird mix of jocks, loners, freaks, preps.

To be fair, Eddie was less inclined to cause fuss in the cafeteria these days and only sold weed on the weekends so maybe he wasn’t so much of a freak anymore…? He said as much to Robin who snorted and told him to dream on. They were all freaks which kind of undercut the point, you know? 

“A John Hughes wet dream - though Breakfast Club doesn’t technically come out for another two years…God, the mind boggles,” she added. 

The odd assortment of friends were sitting on the school bleachers eating lunch as it was a rare sunny day for Hawkins. The younger kids would be coming over to join them from the middle school and Eddie was sketching out ideas for a D&D campaign (he wanted to set the club up before the kids got to high school because fuck them feeling like outsiders this time round).  

Steve was busy eyeing up a cute girl from his chem lab, Nancy and Jonathan were making eyes at each other, Patrick was trying again to explain the rules of basketball to Robin who said she didn’t give a crap. 

A bell rang in the distance and he looked up from his sketchbook, his eyes going right over to the doors. Within a few minutes he was rewarded by the sight of Chrissy (flanked as always by her giggly popular friends).

As for Chrissy’s memory? Who could say. 

As soon as they returned to 1983 she was reluctant to talk about any of it. She didn’t ignore them but she didn’t join in either. She let Nancy check in on her once a week and told them yes, i’m fine but she held her cards close to her chest when it came to discussing her memory. She never wanted to share or ask questions and after a couple of days they stopped asking. 

So instead of joining their rag-tag party, she drifted closer to her friends on the cheer team and threw herself into extracurriculars. She seemed to have signed up for everything - cheerleading, photography, student council, art classes, tutoring - and seemed happiest when she was busy and helping. 

(like a shield) 

Eddie would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt (because it felt like a punch to the gut every time she was in his proximity), though he hadn’t exactly done anything to bridge the gap either. 

Chrissy had effortlessly resumed her role as the pretty and popular cheerleader who everyone seemed to adore. Girls wanted to be her friend and boys - well, you’d have to blind not to notice the looks she got from guys just aching to take her out. 

(Eddie had to grit his teeth when he saw this - they didn’t really see her, they hadn’t fought at her side, they hadn’t died in her lovely arms). 

Chrissy rattled him - but then she always had. 

So instead he kept his distance and resigned himself to an insufferable watch. He probably looked like a fucking stalker but as long as she was nearby and safe and happy that was enough. She looked happy. They didn’t share any classes as he was in the right year group this time, but Nancy told him she was doing well on the student council (using her voice to defend, to challenge). Patrick said she was an excellent cheerleader and already impressed the current reigning captain. 

God, she was thriving. 

What had he expected? Of course she was. 

He hated that she slipped so easily back into this role. He hated that she no longer needed him like he apparently desperately needed her. 

He was such a fucking asshole. This was exactly what he’d wanted when he voted yes all those years ahead.  

They’d all taken the same risk by voting yes and some of them lost. 

The reality (he tried drumming into his thick head) was that he and Chrissy Cunningham had only been flung together because fate had a pretty sick sense of humour. They had absolutely no business being friends or…anything…except maybe casual school chums. They’d shared moments of complete bliss and agony together in the Upside Down - but not from their own choosing - but rather some cosmic joke that left them with no one else. She owed him nothing, and he would not accept it anyway. 

That was the truth. 

They’d saved the world and he was a certified hero - so what did it matter if he felt like a royal loser? 

(he finally looked away when Jason Carver materialised and offered to carry Chrissy’s pink backpack) 

Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters

**

My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out

And what a fucking way to end it

Eddie went to class on time and listened and his grades started picking up. He started his D&D club and was surprised when two new faces (seniors - graduating at the end of the year) showed up at the first meeting. He got a legitimate weekend job at a garage so he could help out Wayne with the bills. Corroded Coffin were starting up just in time for the release of Holy Diver (the very definition of perfect timing - honestly). His new friends showed up at their gigs and they played all the better for it. 

When he got a B on his latest English paper, Wayne took him out for pizza and said he was real proud of him. Eddie started to think about the future - that just maybe he could amount to something other than petty criminal or deadbeat dad. Maybe he could even aim for college. Study music or graphic design. 

Maybe get out of Hawkins. Find a girl. See some of the world. 

Sure he had baggage and got angry sometimes (real angry, at seemingly odd moments) but every week he spoke to Ms Kelley about his shitty parents and why his crazy brain struggled to focus. He couldn’t tell her the truth obviously - but still, it helped. 

His second chance at life flew by in a hazy rush. Halloween came along, so did Thanksgiving (he and Wayne were invited to the Byers’ which beat the TV dinners the Munson’s were used to). 

It was nearing Christmas break when Eddie finally realised (with a penny drop) that Chrissy’s patchwork cloak was unravelling despite her desperate attempts to sew it back up. 

And it was Nancy who gave him the first clue when she found Chrissy crying in the school bathroom. “You know Carver asked her out and she turned him down flat, right? It’s the biggest scandal of the semester. We know he’s a huge jerk but everyone else thinks he’s this cool hotshot athlete. They’re scandalised.” 

“Wait - so she’s crying because of that jackass?” Steve asked. 

(Jason was an anomaly they didn’t know how to handle - after all, no harm, no foul, right? - but they knew the crap he was capable of, even if he didn’t)

“Her parents kicked her out,” Jonathan added after a moment. He winced when they all stared at him and tried to shrug it off. “She let slip in photography club. I asked about some photos she took of home and she said her parents could be really mean and controlling sometimes. Especially her mom. Stuff like ‘not being good enough’. I mean, it’s her business so I didn’t want to pry, but yeah…didn’t sound so easy. Sounds like she finally stood up to them though and they threw her out. Think she’s staying with her aunt.” 

Eddie knew what Chrissy looked like on a battlefield, knew she could land one sick dropkick, knew what she looked like when she sobbed her beautiful heart out. 

He didn’t know about an aunt or that her parents were bullying pieces of shit. It felt like a serious gap in his knowledge about someone who occupied so much of his daily thoughts. 

God, he felt so fucking proud of her. 

“What sort of stuff does she photograph?” Eddie asked. It suddenly seemed like an important thing to know. 

“Uh…mostly people, I think. I’ve not seen her work on landscapes or objects. She really likes portraits and light work. She took some seriously good ones of the cheerleaders practising drills. It’s really hard to capture movement, you know, but they turned out great.” 

Chrissy had made the choice to sever links with Jason and her shitty parents. 

And she was photographing life. Hope began to kindle in his chest. 

Maybe she did remember. 

Jonathan looked at him and said, “She’s booked out the studio after school to work on a project. Maybe you should talk to her? She always seemed…better…when you were nearby. Before, I mean.” 

Yeah. Before. When they were fading away like ghosts. 

Maybe it was a selfish idea (he would have to be so so careful with his choice of wording) but Eddie was hungry to see her, to speak to her, to spot any glimmer of before. Watching her from afar was simply not enough to quench this thirst anymore. 

(he’d even attended a pep rally just to drink in her smile, to his shame). 

He wasn’t going to be an asshole and push anything but he could check in. That was harmless, right? 

So after school Eddie found himself making his way to the photography classroom. He’d been here only twice before (photography seemed to require a lot of patience - waiting, developing, timing) but he recognised the sharp stinging smell of chemicals as he opened the doors. 

He felt his chest clench and suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. Was this how Beren felt when he saw the Luthien dancing in the woods? Only Chrissy wasn’t dancing like an ethereal spirit, she was all alone and leaning over a workbench. No leaves or forest, just the countless pictures pinned to the walls. 

And boy, did he fucking note the way her body tensed up when she saw him. “Hey Chriss.” 

“Eddie…” Chrissy bit her lip (a habit he knew she did when she was nervous). “Can I help you with something? Jonathan’s not here.” 

Yeah, you can be honest and tell me your damage, you beautiful mess of all things wonderful and lovely. 

“I mean, I could lie and say I had a sudden urge to join the club, but I’m really only here for you. Sounds like you’ve had a crap time recently so I wanted to check in. You holding up okay?”

Chrissy huffed out a breath and turned back to her project. The pink knitted jumper she wore was baggy and oversized and he could see the pale skin of her (not broken, not snapped, she was alive) shoulder. 

“That’s kind of you, really, but I don’t need babysitting. I’m okay,” she said quietly. “I…I’m keeping busy. Doing my best. I’m really trying.” 

Eddie reached the table and peered down with interest at the scattering of photographs (one of the cheer team in action, one of a basketball game, one of the cheering crowds). He could see so clearly what she was trying to capture. She wanted their smiles, their joy. Almost like she was trying to collect them. These photos were a testament to her words - that she was trying so incredibly hard to live in this world. 

“These are cool. You’re good at this.”

“They’re okay,” she corrected with a small sigh. “Still got a lot to learn.” 

He watched as she picked up another photo - her brother maybe? - and arranged it onto a black scrapbook page with the others. Had she ever mentioned a brother before? 

He spoke before he could remind himself they weren’t friends. “I don’t know anything about your life, Chriss. Thought I did but…”

“I’m still learning about it too. Oh…”

Her elbow accidentally knocked a tray and in her haste to save the chemicals, a second pile of photographs slipped out from beneath and fell to the floor. Eddie quickly bent to pick them up and (ignoring her protests) instinctively turned them over…

“Please don’t…” 

…only to see a picture of himself. 

Standing, he felt a ripple of shock and looked at her, a question burning his lips. She was staring down at her sneakers and her cheeks were flushed scarlet but she gave a tiny nod. 

There were several photographs of him, all taken at school from a distance. He looked at himself playing guitar on the bleachers, stretching out on the lawn at lunch, leaning against his van smoking a cigarette. He eyed his face closely (eyes brown and laughing, hair a chaotic mess of curls, stubble on his jaw that needed shaving) and was surprised by how different it looked to what he saw in the mirror every morning. It was like seeing something from a brand new angle, he looked so different. 

He looked happy. Confident. A good-looking guy (how did she manage that?) living a decent life. Was this how she saw him? 

There were others of Nancy, of Steve, of Robin, even a few of Max, but they were mostly of him. He paused at one of them all together at lunch laughing at something funny Robin said. They looked so fucking smug and normal. 

And then…right at the bottom…a photograph of Chrissy herself. 

But this Chrissy wasn’t smiling (which seemed to be her default setting at school). She’d obviously taken it as a self-portrait because she was perched on a stool looking right into the camera lens. She looked so real, so fucking raw. Her face was smooth and serious and deathly sad. She wasn’t even wearing makeup. There was a patch of acne on her chin. 

Jonathan said she was into portraits and this was how she saw herself. He wanted to tattoo it on his chest. 

“I’m no stalker, I swear,” but her laugh wasn’t convincing. “It might sound stupid but I just…I don��t want to forget anything. When I take a photograph it’s proof that the subject was real. That my memories are real.”

Eddie’s heart was fucking hammering. The others might kill him, but he just had to…

Screw Fate. Screw ‘emotional and trauma bonding’. He would grab this with his own two hands. 

So he plunged into the deep end and asked the million-dollar question. “Do you…remember, Chriss?”

And she nodded. The most miraculous nod in history. 

“I remember most things, but not everything. Some of the details are hazy which drives me crazy sometimes. I remember Vecna, I remember dying which really sucks, and the fight…I remember the crappy hotel too and the…vote. Some things I’d rather forget honestly but the other stuff? I wish I could capture them, you know? Like taking a snapshot of the inside of my brain. That must sound really weird.” 

“Nah, I get it. I draw them too. For D&D or just sketch them in my notebook. I…don’t want to forget either,” he admitted. “I try and draw every detail…well, as best as these dumb hands will let me. I’m not too shabby.” 

Her eyes lit up with starlight. Her hands were trembling at her sides. 

It felt almost too natural to take her hand and thread his fingers between her own. Once he’d kissed these fingers, tried to rub some life into them. 

“Chrissy…these photographs are really incredible, and we’re all here if you ever want to talk about this stuff. I’m right here, alright? I fucking see you.”

She began to cry (big messy tears that were aching to be let free) and then she was in his waiting arms. He gathered her close, hungrily, fervently, trying to ignore how perfectly she fit like a missing jigsaw piece and how something primal inside his soul seemed to snap into place. She wept and clung to his flannel shirt and he didn’t give a shit when his own tears followed. He stroked her back, her hair, urging her to let it all out. Her hair felt like spun gold. “I think you always have, Eddie,” she whispered. 

Her frayed edges had finally found his own and he would stitch them himself if she let him.  Eventually Chrissy began to pull away and mumbled something about being so embarrassed and so sorry but Eddie found himself holding on. 

He could not let her slip away again.

“Don’t let me go, Chris, please.” It sounded like a whimper. A plea for her to remain with him. 

She softened back into the embrace and his grip tightened when she pressed her shivering lips (soft, alive) against his chest. 

“Why do you care about me?” she sniffed. “Eddie, I’m a total fucking mess.” 

It was the same question she’d asked years ahead in the garden when they were wasting away, and again he answered her honestly. Because what else could you do to someone you would literally travel through time for? 

“Remember what I said the night of the vote? I meant every damn word, always will. Nothing’s changed for me, Chriss. Nothing.” 

“I remember. Oh - I remember you. They couldn’t rip you away from me.” 

They had no photographs or sketches, but they were witnesses. They remembered, and they could make new memories too. New (gleeful, sad, exciting, embarrassing) memories. Just like kids their age were supposed to. 

So he mumbled into her hair, “Chriss, can I take you on a date? Fireworks, the whole lot. I'll make it real special. Just us. 

He could feel Chrissy smiling - and fuck, wasn’t that the whole point? - as she said yes, she’d really really like that.

And then she threw her lovely arms around him again, cloaking him in hope and light, but this was not to be his end…

It was his beginning. 1983, baby. 

Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters

**

A/N:

Whatever happens in season 5 I just hope these beautiful characters get some kind of closure. A few quick notes:

I love Emma. It’s a great book. Just doesn’t feel like an Eddie book. 

Time travel who? I don’t usually like that kind of ending - feels cheap sometimes - but for this genre it could totally work. 

Enjoy the nerd references. 

I included Barb because I want closure for her too. 

Who knows about a timeline or ages. I’m basing this off the Wiki ages. 

Lyrics by Florence. 

Thank you for reading. I really enjoyed writing this.

[beetlesandstarss]

Chapter 2: Shopping at 10 PM

To Be Loved For No Reason At All (Series)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

Summary: Eddie makes a show of jutting his chin as best he can, a smile tugging at his lips as he says over his Lunchables, “I’ll have you know these bad boys are delectable, Mr holier-than-thou.”

Notes: AAAH writing chapter three at the moment, will try to get it done tonight and post it tomorrow! It's my favourite so far, I am very much looking forward to posting it!

I'm graduating in like, two days so I apologise if chapter 4 is late!!!! will try to have it out by Friday :D

Chapter playlist: Cold Shower - Salem Al Fakir Working For The Weekend - Loverboy Window - Still Woozy 104 Degrees - Slaughter Beach, Dog

-

Steve’s stacking VHS tapes the next afternoon, thinking the previous night over. He’s severely hungover, and hopes that’s why the world feels slightly tipped on its axis. 

He hasn’t heard from Eddie since the two went their separate ways after the party, but like, that’s kind of expected. What was the guy supposed to do, come knocking on Steve’s door in the morning to let him know he’s alive and breathing? Yeah, fat chance of that. But a part of Steve still childishly wishes he had. 

It still hasn’t really sunk in. Finding Eddie in the bathroom. Having to - to revive him. That Eddie told him about his parents. That Steve was stupid enough to ask. Steve had always assumed it was a sore spot, since he never brought it up himself. He’d always thought Eddie had run away from home. He’s not sure why. But now Steve knows the real deal, the real story. It’s a secret he’ll take to his grave. 

He assumes he won’t hear from Eddie again until their next chance run-in, which is why he has to stop and blink for a full ten seconds when he sees Eddie’s car pull up in the driveway outside. 

Steve feels a smile tug at his lips as Eddie makes his way inside. He’s got his hands in his pockets, eyes glued to the floor. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, except the shirt, which is some sort of Metal band merch, Steve thinks. The smile drops off his face as he gets closer. 

“Hey,” calls Steve, weary.

Eddie’s eyes snap to Steve’s. His eyes look bigger than ever, with dark bags weighing them down. He makes his way over to where Steve’s standing, next to a cart of unstacked VHS tapes. 

“Hi, so,” starts Eddie. He looks wound up tight, like something’s biting at his ass. “Shit, I don’t know how to say this, but, um. Are we cool, man?” 

Steve blinks. “Uh, yeah? Sure. We’re cool.”

Eddie nods, blinking fast. “Okay. Great, fantastic. Shit, okay. Good to know.”

They stand in tense silence for a second. 

Eddie explodes. “It’s just that word-vomit and literal-vomit are not the best ingredients for friendship - if we’re even friends, are we? Don’t answer that. I don’t even know why I came here. Fuck, I’m too hungover for this shit.” He rubs his eyes. “I feel, I feel that, yesterday is maybe, kind of, grounds enough for us to not be cool? And I know we had a moment but I’ve had my fair share of moments that are not really moments, and the next I know, I’m getting headbutted in the face, so? Are you a hundred percent sure we’re cool?”

Putting down the VHS tape he’s been holding awkwardly, Steve folds his arms into his chest. “I - yeah? But - you’re getting headbutted? Who’s headbutting you, man? Do I need to get my bat? It’s in the trunk of my car.” It is. He can’t bring himself to take it out. 

“What? No.” Eddie lowers himself to the floor, then springs right up again. All that manic energy, with nowhere to go. His eyes bore into Steve. “I’m asking if you plan to headbutt me anytime soon in the future. Or late in the future. Whichever. So that I can, y’know,” he gestures firmly with his hands, “Get out of your way.” 

Steve creases his eyebrows together. Gets this itching feeling he’s missing something, like Eddie’s trying to tell him something without spelling it out for him. But - well, Steve wasn’t popular in High School because he was the sharpest tool in the box. He gets by, but solving Eddie’s riddles hungover? No comprende. 

He also doesn’t like that this is where Eddie’s mind went, after last night. That Steve would for some reason have it out for him, for… being honest with him, or something. It doesn’t make any sense. He wishes Robin was here. She’d know what to do. Robin and Eddie are kind of buddies now, they started talking during the whole Watergate debacle. Where are you when I need you? 

“Listen,” Steve unfolds his arms. “I promise I am not planning to headbutt you, or like, hurt you at like, all? I thought you knew me better than that, Munson.” 

Eddie’s searching his face for something. “Yes, well. I just thought. That. I thought that. Shit, it doesn’t matter what I thought. So. Glad we’ve - talked. Sayonara. See ya.” 

“What?” asks Steve, but Eddie’s already speeding towards the door, and half a minute later, he’s pulling out of the driveway, music blaring. 

-

The rest of his shift was unbearable, a million questions clouding his mind, the most prominent of which were: who, why, when, and how the hell is Eddie Munson? 

He’s still mulling the afternoon over when he’s getting out of his car in the grocery store parking lot. He’s done that a lot, the past twenty-four hours. Thinking. Eddie brings out the best of him. Like his brain. 

It’s ten PM and the grocery store’s harsh light makes him squint. He wanders the produce aisle, wrinkling his nose at the stuff he doesn’t like (fucking kumquats), and looks consideringly at the stuff he does (strawberries). He grabs a box of strawberries, and heads for the snacks. Doubles back and grabs two more. 

On his way to the snacks, he grabs four ready meals. Who can be bothered to cook on any given day ever? Not Steve. 

In the snack aisle, he grabs a couple of bags of Doritos. Heads for the drinks. Grabs a couple of cokes. He’s reading the incomprehensible ingredients on the back of one of the cans when he turns around and walks right into someone’s back. 

“Ah, my bad,” he says, looking up. His eyebrows climb up his forehead, heart skipping a beat. “Hello,” he grins, can’t help himself. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

Eddie’s got Lunchables stacked up to his chin, and he looks so ridiculous Steve wishes desperately he could take a photo. “Uh,” says Eddie. “It’s not what it looks like?”

“Bulking for a rough winter?” Steve teases, putting the can he’d been holding into the cart he’d been dragging along behind him with the rest of his stuff. Pulls a hand through his hair, hoping it’s held its shape after today. 

Eddie makes a show of jutting his chin as best he can, a smile tugging at his lips as he says over his Lunchables, “I’ll have you know these bad boys are delectable, Mr holier-than-thou.” 

“Me? Holier-than-thou? I’m wounded.” Steve mimics getting shot in the heart, theatrically stumbling backwards. 

Eddie seems to bite the inside of his cheek. “Funny. Guess they didn’t call you a ladykiller for nothing.” 

“Ooh, double kill,” he says, clutching his chest. 

Eddie grins, kicks at Steve’s shoe. Steve marvels at the dimples in Eddie’s cheeks, kinda wants to poke them. What the hell?  

“So, uh. You just picking up Hawkins’ entire supply of Lunchables or…” 

Eddie gestures behind him. “That’s my stuff over there.” 

Steve looks at the cart behind him, parked next to the cookies. 

Steve looks back at Eddie. “That’s just beer.” 

“Yep.” 

“You are…” Steve searches for the right word. “Unbelievable.”

Eddie looks affronted. “Unbelievable? That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s buying -” Eddie peeks at Steve’s cart, “Doritos and strawberries en masse.” 

Steve’s a little bit obsessed with the way Eddie says Doritos. Like he just can’t tone down the theatricality. 

“They’re in season,” Steve justifies. 

“Don’t think Doritos have a season, Steve,” says Eddie. 

“God, shut up,” groans Steve, but he’s grinning from ear to ear and he’s so glad he decided to go grocery shopping at ten in the evening. Thinks he’d do it every day for the rest of his life if he could see Eddie like this. Steve quickly rewinds to that thought, thinks ? and pretends he didn’t think it. 

“Think you’d have to literally kill me to shut me up, Harrington,” says Eddie, gesturing with a nod that he’s grabbing his cart. As he’s turned around Steve has time to school his expression into something that doesn’t scream, yeah I think I might’ve possibly noticed that yesterday when I found you half-alive and not talking in a bathtub. He doesn’t think Eddie would appreciate it. 

When Eddie returns, arms now bereft of any and all Lunchables, cart now snug and full of said Lunchables, he sighs. Puts his hands on his waist, a bit like a mom. Standing there with their two carts, Steve suddenly feels violently suburban. He doesn’t hate it. 

“‘Kay. This was nice. Less awkward than it should’ve been, I think? Like, considering… everything?” says Eddie.

“So not awkward,” agrees Steve, and he means it. “Not at all.” 

A pause. Eddie tuts. “Well don’t make it awkward just to prove me wrong, dude. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” 

Steve snorts and follows him to the only open register. 

When everything’s been paid for and bagged, the two stroll out of the store together. Steve knocks his plastic bag into Eddie’s. The air is warm out. Humid, almost. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve says. “Wanna go somewhere?”

Eddie gives him a quizzical look. “Go where? The gas station? We’re in Hawkins.” 

Steve kicks at him playfully. Eddie jumps away, smile playing on his lips. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” drawls Steve. “I was thinking maybe Skull Rock?”

Eddie stops, just to give Steve the full experience of him gaping at him. “Harrington - fuck you,” Eddie says, but he’s laughing, so Steve laughs too. 

“Kidding,” he cackles. Rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling shy. “I’ve got the keys to Family Video, so…” he trails off. 

“Yes, that tends to happen when you work somewhere,” says Eddie seriously. 

“Oh my God, put a sock in it,” says Steve. “What I meant by that was, we can watch a movie. If you’d like to.” Dropping the theatrics, he adds, “Your pick?” 

Eddie looks delighted. “Fuck yeah.”

-

Notes: Take a shot every time i say Lunchables

Actually don’t do that

[shoutoismybaby]

A Pink Promise (BakuXReader)

Summary: You had a tradition with bakugou. A tradition where every time you had to leave each other you would wrap your pinky’s together in a promise that you would see the other again. But one night after an argument you storm out of the apartment without your typical goodbye, and bakugou gets a call that makes him question if he will ever see you alive again

WARNING: Angst, but it ends in fluff. Cursing, injury, car accident, fighting, and crying

Hi. I’m just gonna leave this here😘

***

“I should probably head home,” You shifted from one foot to another, “my dad will get worried if I’m late…”

“Alright, bye loser.” You giggled at Bakugous response and held out your hand, pinky extended.

“So, you’ll pick me up at two?” You asked, pausing at the confused look on his face. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Bakugou asked, he was staring at your hand. You laughed once more and ignored his glare,

“Oh, it's for a pinky promise.” You explained,

“You need me to pinky promise that I’ll take you on a date tomorrow?” His brows only became more furrowed, Katsuki knew you were a little weird. The simplest things seemed to make you smile, but that's what he loved about you. He wondered if you seriously wanted him to pinky promise you that he would take you out, right after he just asked you to be his girlfriend. Yeah, he was an asshole. But not to that extent.

“No, um. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” You blushed, it was a habit you had picked up from your parents. They always used a pinky promise in place of a goodbye kiss. You were about to let your hand drop when looped his pinky with yours.

“Okay, I’ll be at your house at two. You better be ready.” He gave your finger a tight squeeze before letting it go. He then turned around and began walking away from you.

“I won't!” You promised, watching him walk away for a couple of seconds before you turned to head home.

From that day on, each time you went to say goodbye, a pinky promise accompanied it. Even Bakugou caught onto the habit quickly, despite the fact that his friends would often tease him for it. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He knew it. Your peers knew it. Even your uncle's dog knew it. But all that mattered to him was that you were happy. And you were for a while.

It was when you had graduated for UA and moved into an apartment together that problems started to arise. Katsuki got overly jealous of every person you got close to, and you were always exhausted after work. Hero's work was stressful on both of you, only contributing to the short temper your boyfriend seemed to have. Fights would happen over the smallest of things, such as chores not being done, or something being left out where it didn't belong.

Of course, you couldn't say that you were innocent, you did start a fair amount of fights. Eventually, though, it hit a point that you could barely handle it anymore. Even when you tried to calm him down, to just talk through things, it would always end in screams and slammed doors.

And soon enough, you hit your limit.

“God, don’t you ever shut up!?” You screamed, just having gotten home from work. Why were you already fighting with him? You hadn't even gotten the chance to take off your shoes. His face only seemed to get more contorted, matching the amount of anger he felt. Why was he always directing it at you? “I just got home from work, cant you give me a fucking break!”

“Maybe you’d get home earlier if you were any good at what you do!” He argued, of course, he would go on the offense.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” You prayed that he would back down.

“I'm just saying that if you weren't such a shitty hero, maybe you would get home at a decent time and actually-” That was your breaking point.

“Just because you’ll never be good enough to be the number 1 hero, doesn't mean you can take it out on me!” You shut him up pretty fast. His face paled and eyes widened, but you could barely notice past the high you were on. “I’m sick and tired of coming home to someone who only wants to fight with me! Have you ever thought that maybe I take extra shifts to avoid seeing you?”

You were crying now, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were so mad. How could he tell you that he loved you and then tell you something like that?

Katsuki seemed frozen, you couldn't see the guilt flood his body. You couldn't hear the thoughts whirring in his head. You couldn't feel his regret. You could only feel anger.

You could only feel your heart ripping in two, the tears scratching their way to your eyes. Everything hurt. You felt like a gust of wind could cause your body to fall apart. Yet, at the same time, you felt numb. Maybe that was the anger. The desperation. The hurt. Maybe that was what was protecting your fragile self.

You had never felt so broken and vulnerable before.

“I hate you Bakugou!” He was supposed to be the one to protect you, love you, care for you. So why was he the one tearing you apart?

If it hadn't already, his heart stopped. You hadn't called him by his last name since you got together.

“(Y/n)-” His hand reached out to you. All he wanted to do right then was apologize to you, and hold you close until you forgave him. But you couldn't do that. Not again. Not then,

“Don't touch me!” Your voice sounded so broken as you held one of your wrists in your other hand. “Don't-” A shuddering breath made its way through your throat. You reached for your coat and began to pull it on.

“(Y/n), please don't. I'm sorry-”

“I don't want to see you again,” You closed your eyes tight and sighed, turning to the door. He didn't say anything else, so you left.

***

It was a couple of seconds before his arm returned to his side, and a couple of minutes more before he stopped standing there. Choosing to sit instead. He wasn’t sure why. Why he didn’t just move to the couch. Why some part of him was convinced that you would just walk back in, and let him apologize. Let him fix everything.

But he knew you wouldn't. Even more, he knew he didn’t deserve it.

It was an hour before he finally moved, and it was only to get to his ringing phone. All he could do at that moment was wish it was you.

Wish it was about you.

Oh, how he came to wish he could take back that wish.

“(y/n), I'm sorry-”

“Hello?” It wasn't your voice on the phone, Bakugou considered hanging up, but had a feeling that he shouldn't.

“Who is this?” He asked gruffly, he just wanted you back in his arms. He didn't care about anything else.

“My name is Haru, I work for the Musutafu hospital. Your number is on the emergency contact list of (Y/n) (L/n). Could you come down to the hospital? It's urgent.”

Bakugou didn't think that his heart would break anymore that night. But here he was, tearing up on the phone. Begging and screaming at the poor nurse to tell him what was going on, knowing full well she couldn't. Stupid patient confidentiality.

He had never pulled on his shoes and coat faster, not taking the time to realise his shoes did not match. He knew it was illegal to use his quirk at the moment, but he didn’t care. He launched himself into the air and towards the hospital, only slowing down in order to land painfully in front of the doors. But he didn't care about how he felt. Nor did he care about the immediate attention that was placed on him from everyone around.

“Is that Ground Zero?”

“I’ve never seen him without his hero suit on before”

“Look at him. He looks like a mess.”

“Is he okay?”

The hospital was busy when he walked inside, covered in sweat from both the bodily exertion and anxiety. His heart was racing and the only thing keeping him from fainting was the fact that he needed to see you. How had you already ended up in the hospital? You had only just left his house-

But the clock on the wall corrected him, it had been a few hours. His stomach churned as he walked up to the receptionist's desk,

“Where’s (Y/n)?” He growled out, beginning to get restless. Now that some people knew who he was, the paparazzi was sure to show up. And that was the last thing either of you needed.

“Name, ID, Relationship to the patient?” The woman's calm demeanor was in direct contrast to the storm brewing in Bakugou.

“Bakugou Katsuki, I’m (Y/n) (L/n)’s boyfriend.” He said as he dug out his wallet, suddenly remembering something you had told him once when you had to visit him in the hospital after a villain encounter went sideways. “But we’ve lived together for over three years, we have a common law marriage.”

He knew that this was the only way he was going to be able to see you, but it wasn’t like he was lying. The receptionist squinted at him before taking his ID and looking it over.

“Alright, if you can state the name of the patient you are visiting for me again I can get you the guest pass and their room number.”

***

Your door slammed open, and you strained your eyes trying to see. The brace around your neck stops you from properly looking over. It didn’t take long to realise who it was when you heard the strangled whine. You recognized it as Katsuki right away. How could you not?

You had been with him for years, through the ups, the downs, and the very far downs that were the past year. You had held him tightly when those noises had escaped him in the past and you shielded him from the world when he was no longer able to keep up his facade.

You could only imagine how broken he looked now, you just wanted to hold him again and protect him from everything.

Until you remembered your last conversation, but then you just felt conflicted. You were mad at him. You were so angry.

But you were scared, so scared.

After all your years as a pro hero, and it was a truck that fucked you up the most. Each breath was painful, and maybe if your mind wasn’t so cloudy on pain meds, you would be able to remember how many ribs the doctor told you were broken, or which leg. Or if you were going to live. God, were you scared.

Footsteps brought you out of your thoughts, focusing your eyes to the man who stood in front of you. He looked like a boy now, so broken and collapsed in on himself.

“(Y/n),” sounded broken.

His brows were furrowed, mouth deep set in a scowl. But you knew better. You saw the tears stains on his cheeks. The redness of his eyes. His coat was inside out. You knew his face was one of worry. Fear.

You remembered the first time you saw him look like that. The first time he opened himself up to be so vulnerable to you. It was sometime after All Might had fallen, and the guilt had been eating him up. Not many other people noticed the way his thoughts were eating him up inside. But you did.

You saw the light in his eyes dim. The dark bags began to form and the way his posture fell. His confidence was falling no matter how much he screamed to keep up his image.

“K-kat-suk-i” You struggled to speak, your voice raspy. Like you hadn’t drank anything in years. Tears bubbled in his eyes, and, somehow that was more painful than when you first woke up. In the middle of the street, there had been a young woman kneeling over you, screaming into her phone. You couldn't hear her though, only the ringing in your ear.

You couldn't remember right before you got hit, it was fuzzy. Though the doctor told you it was normal. You wondered if maybe you were just running without looking. Or if tears clouded your vision. Or maybe, if it hadn't been your fault at all.

“Shit,” The love of your life began to scrub his face with his fists, much like he did the night you found him in the dorms kitchen. Crying over a late night snack as his fists clenched the edge of the counter, struggling to hold himself together.

No matter how much he tried to cover his face after you made your presence known, you could see the tears as they fell to the floor. You could hear his strangled whimpers. And even though you knew the possible consequences, you held his shaking body in your arms. You let him be vulnerable and didn’t say a word.

It was that day that you began to see Bakugou as he truly was. An Asshole? Yes, of course. But also a boy who cared way too much, who held himself to impossible standards, and who never really had a proper support system. You decided to be his support that day, and soon after you became his girlfriend too.

“They, they told me what happened to you,” you watched as little pops of frustration came out of his fists. “And I couldn't help but think that it’s my fault.”

“No,” you wanted to protest, but you instead had your breath hitched in your throat. The desire of water coming to be the very forefront of your thoughts as you reached out your hands, desperate for the hydration that would let you continue. Bakugou, of course noticed and his crimson eyes quickly spotte the glass of water on your nightstand. Once the cool glass brushed against your fingers, you brought it to your lips and drank as if you hadn’t seen a liquid in days.

“Just, listen okay? I… Ive been taking out my work stress on you, I’ve been rude and condesending and just fucking nit picky. You didn’t deserve any of that, especially what I said earlier. It was fucking uncalled for and so far from the truth.” The determination in his gaze was evident, it was the same gleam in his eyes he got whenever he set his mind to something. You adored that look from him.

“I know Katsuki, I know you don’t really think that.” You muttered, unsure of what to say. Were you just supposed to forgive his, what seemed to be, apology? You had no idea how you felt. Your head hurt along with the rest of your body and your throat was still parched despite downing your water seconds ago.

“It doesnt matter, you need to know what I do think. I think youre an incredibly strong woman. And a fucking resilient, relentless one at that. Can’t get you off my shit for two seconds. But I love that about you, you know? I know I’ve been a dick recently but I really do love you. I asmire you too, your work ethic. You never give up and thats what makes you one of the best heroes out there, fuck what the polls say.” He sniffled and quickly ran a closed fist under his nose. “You dont deserve what I’ve been putting you through lately… and I’m fucking sorry. You’re the most important person in my life and you deserve better than the asshole you’ve been getting.”

“You’ve always been an asshole.” You used your glass to hide the smirk on your face that only grew bigger as bakugou couldn't help himself from blowing up.

“I- are you kidding!? I’m trying to fucking apologize here and THATS what you choose to say!?” The pops of his quirk created a melody with the raspy laughs that left your mouth.

“Yeah,” your chuckling continued as bakugou's face softened. Eyes like cooling embers as they dusted across your figure. You tried to ignore that look, it always made your chest swell uncomfortably. Nothing could make you tear up more than the love bakugou had for you.

“Shitty woman,” he sat himself down in the chair besides your bed and took the now empty glass from your hands, “I just want you to know that when- if, you come home… that things are going to be better. I don't ever want to make you feel like you have to avoid me ever again. I want you to feel safe around me. And I swear that I’m going to put you above my hero work from now on-“

“No, Katsuki, I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have said that you can't become the number one hero, it's not true.” You shook your head, the shame being too painful to look anywhere but your hands. Balled in fists on your lap before they were gently tugged into his own. You reluctantly met his eyes, admiring the fire that burned in them.

“This has nothing to fucking do with that, okay? I’m not giving up on being the number one, I’m just going to start working harder to be better for you at the same time. And anyone who thinks I can’t do it is a dumb bitch.”

“God can your ego get Any bigger?” A smile stretched across your face as you began laughing again when he simply shrugged. It hurt like a bitch, the sharp pain making your eyes water, but you just loved everything about the angry man in front of you. Even when he began yelling at you to stop laughing before you hurt yourself even more. It took awhile for you to calm down, and even longer to get bakugou to stop glaring at you for hurting yourself.

“I love you,” he said after a moment of silence, his rough thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of your hand.

“I know.” You sighed, basking in the silence that lasted only a few seconds before bakugou ripped his hands from yours.

“SAY IT BACK!”

***

I hope you enjoyed!

[canonicallyincorrect]

Haikyu Headcanons

Confessions!

Featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Hey besties! Been a bit since the last post but school is almost done so be prepared for more headcanons soon!

~

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

you are the same year in high school and manage the aoba johsai volleyball club

you are great friends with the group of four (oikawa, iwa, matsun and makki) and spend a lot of time with them

like a lot: lunches, practices, walking to and from school together, classes, etc.

Iwa and yourself are in the same class and often spend breaks in between practice sets going over homework

you start to catch some feelings after two years, and the other three can see that both of you are dancing around it

you never catch the way his face heats up, or how he starts to rub the back of his neck nervously when you get a little too close

one day makki and matsun confront you about it in a private group chat, and you tell them all about it

they won't ever let you live down how you started to talk about how cute he is when he's angry

they start to hype you up knowing full well that Iwa feels the same

at the same time oikawa teases iwa, even going as far as saying that he might just have to snatch you up if he takes too long

that went over great

anyways, you finally build up enough courage to write Iwa a love letter

you made sure everything was pristine: making sure it wouldn't crease in your backpack and folding the papers just right

right before practice was about to start for the day, makki and matsun give you a little push and a thumbs up as you make your way over to Iwa

he's by himself in the storage room, getting the ball carts ready and you step in

with two hands, you extend the letter in his direction

there's nothing written on the front of it, and you can see Iwa deflate

it makes you panic big time

he takes it with one hand and mutters out "i'll give it to Oikawa later"

before it fully sets in what he said, he pushes past you onto the court

"wait!" you quickly grab his shoulder and now all eyes are on you two

he stops his movements and looks confused

"it's for you, idiot"

you look a little hurt, but it goes away quickly once you see his entire face turn beet red

makki and matsun start to laugh their asses off while oikawa just says "i told you guys" not knowing they pushed you to do it

iwa ended up reading the letter right after practice, and you walked home hand in hand :)

OIKAWA TOORU

(this is so long smh)

You guys were friends in hs, being the volleyball manager, and were a part of the third year group of friends

Iwa, Oikawa and yourself all decided to attend the same college but you all lived in different apartments

you all owned a key to each others places tho

ANYWAYS, Tooru didn’t know how to feel about anything (i.e. his feelings for you) and decided to be a total fuckboy his first year and had a FWB

He ended up ditching on a lot of your guys’ hang outs, and both Hajme and yourself got upset

Sometime during your first year you let it slip to Iwa that you had a big fat crush on Oikawa, but he promised he wouldn’t intervene

You rarely saw Tooru at this point, and you would cry in Hajime’s arms on some nights

Second year rolls around and Iwa knows you’re getting tired of waiting, and he can see you switch from sad to frustrated and angry

Oikawa’s still kind of fucking around until Hajme demands to talk to him

Scared out of his mind, they meet up and Iwa warns him that he’s going to start losing people in his life if he doesn’t fix his attitude and figure things out

In the moment, tooru doesn’t react, but when he gets home he thinks about it more

He calls off the FWB thing and tells himself he’s going to be a better friend and figure out how to properly confess to you

It’s been a couple weeks since than and the three of you decide to hang out

Iwa tells you that he thinks tooru is really changing for the better, and it really gets your hopes up. That things will be normal again

Welp…. Tooru cancels 20 minutes after he was supposed to meet up with the two of you at Iwa’s place and you feel an unbridled rage crawl out from your stomach

It comes out in tears and screaming as Iwa holds you tight, wanting to rip Oikawa a new one

Suddenly you whip out your phone and proceed in writing a text to Oikawa

It reads: “I’m so fucking tired Tooru. I’m done with these games and I’m done with you.”

Or something along those lines.

Iwa sees what you’re doing and tries to get you to think before you hit send, but it’s too late and you grab your belongings and leave the apartment

Iwa is stunned - you’ve never really been one to act on emotions or lash out and it takes him a few minutes to realize what’s happening

The only thing that breaks him from his trance is his phone buzzing with a call from Oikawa

On the line, his voice is shaky and he’s panicking about the text, asking where you are and what’s going on.

Iwa’s pissed and tells him how bad he fucked up, possibly for the last time, as he describes the events to his best friend

He also says that he doesn’t know where you are, and you won’t respond to his texts

Without a moment of hesitation, Tooru grabs his car keys and goes to check all of your usual spots: Your apartment, the school library, your favorite coffee shop, the gymnasium, the bench in the middle of campus that you’ve dubbed “your bench”

But you’re not there

You’re not at any of those spots and Oikawa keeps checking in with Hajme, who is continuously calling you and guarding your apartment just in case

Nothing

Not for an hour or two

Until, oikawa’s just driving around when he sees you walking down a street.

You don’t have any earbuds in and it's obvious you’ve been out in the cold, crying for a while

“Y/N!” he shouts from the car, slowing it to match your pace, but you ignore him, wishing he would just drive away

He begs you to get into the car

You ignore him

This goes on for a few minutes before he throws his car into park, in the middle of the street and you give in as he’s taking off his seat belt

Silently, you hop into the car, placing the buckle around your waist and stare out of the window

He wants to say something so bad be he knows it’s not the time and he starts to drive you home

Hajime sits on the staircase, looking up when he hears a car door shut. You walk to the front door, avoiding both of their gazes as you place the key into the lock

“Hey…” Iwa places a hand on your shoulder, but you yank it away and shoot him a glare. The door slams in his face right as Tooru walks up next to him, silent tears stream down his face.

Iwa lets Tooru drive him home, and they sit together in his living room all night talking about what happened. Hajime doesn’t chew him out about it, because he can tell Oikawa is sorry from the violent tears that rip through him the second he’s in a safe space.

“How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know…”

A few days pass, and neither has heard from you

Concern bubbles in the pits of their stomachs, but Iwa decides he should go check first

With a small knock, he announces that he’s coming in and unlocks your front door.

The apartment is a mess, trash everywhere, dishes piled in and next to the sink and you: sitting under a pile of blankets, eyes red and swollen.

His heart sinks and you cry harder once you see his frown deepen.

You both hug for some time, Iwa staying silent until you’re ready to talk.

That never happens, but he helps clean your apartment and orders some healthy food for the two of you.

He knows that you’ve turned off your phone and you only leave the house for school and work since you haven’t responded to anyone

Over the next week and a half, he comes by every few days to check in, clean, and drop off some groceries

You look a little worse every time he does

And he tells Oikawa, who’s drowning in guilt

Maybe if he had just confessed at high school graduation like he said he would, this wouldn’t have happened…..

The updates from Iwa made him happy that you were still alive, but tore him apart because of what he did to you

Two weeks after that night, he decided that he’d had enough, and heads over to your house

He knocks and enters without saying anything, and the same sight that greeted Hajme greets him

It’s just messier and your eyes had sunken in, with dark bags hanging underneath them

You were lying on the couch, covered in blankets and crying, which causes him to start crying

You turn to face who entered (you assumed it was Iwa) but a scowl makes its way onto your face once you realize who it is

Tooru sobs harder, slowly making his way to the couch and sitting on the opposite end, not daring to touch you.

Your voice is gruff and scratchy, asking him what he wants and he just cries even harder

A few minutes pass as he calms down, then he explains everything

How he’s been in love with you since high school, how he planned to confess but chickened out, how he didn’t know what to do about his emotions and instead ran away, how he found comfort in other people, how he thought the best thing for you would be to leave him

He rambles on for a long time, but his thoughts only cause confusion for you

“I can’t trust you until you prove it to me, Oikawa”

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise”

“Don’t make promises - prove it.”

The night ends with silent agreements and affirmations that things will be better.

He leaves for the night, kissing the back of your hand before leaving

For the first time in weeks you checked your phone and caught up with everything, and Hajime was happy that you were back

When you returned from school, your apartment was cleaned and there was food in the fridge. A single rose sat on the countertop with a little note: “I’ve always loved your smile”

The next day, you return from a shift at work, and another rose had been added to the vase, a different note sat on the counter: “You always know exactly what to say”

This continues on for weeks

Roses being added to the vase, and a note written on them.

Hang outs had resumed between the three of you, albeit a little awkward, but it was nice to see everyone back together.

You confront Tooru after 3 weeks of nonstop roses and tell him that you’re ready to move forward with him.

The smile he gave you that day is unforgettable, and he tells you to take the next saturday off

He spends the whole day with you

He sneaks into your apartment early and makes you breakfast in bed

You spend the morning talking and watching tv

Then he takes you out for shopping and lunch, with a little walk in the park since it’s so nice outside

Later that evening you return back to your apartment, and a pillow fort, decorated with fairy lights and blankets sat facing the television

(thank you Iwa-chan!)

You spend the rest of the night snacking and talking while one of Tooru’s awful alien documentaries plays in the background.

He kisses you when you’re cuddling up next to each other, and you pull him in for so many more after that

The two of you fall asleep in the fort in one another's arms

How's that for a first date?

[drunk-poets-society]

ok so

this young fella is No. 85 Squadron’s Hurricane pilot Richard Lee. he was awarded the DFC and DSO for his service, just a couple months before he was shot down over the English Channel on 18/8/1940, at age 23, sadly never to be seen again.

details under the cut -

Richard Hugh Anthony Lee was born in London in 1917 (the exact date or month is unknown). Growing up, he went to Charterhouse School.

On September 1935 he joined RAF Cranwell as a Flight Cadet, and graduated in July 1937. He was posted to Debden on June 1, 1938 to join no.85 Squadron at its reformation. He flew Gloster Gladiator biplanes to begin with, before no.85 was re-equipped with Hawker Hurricane Mk1s.

No.85 sqn. Was posted in France to protect cross-channel convoys. On November 21, 1939, while on patrol over Boulogne, Flight Lieutenant ‘Dickie’ Lee scored the squadron’s first victory when he successfully attacked a Heinkel 111 which crashed into the channel and burst into flames. This also scored the Squadron’s first accolade as he was awarded a DFC on March 8, 1940 “for outstanding brilliance and efficiency”

Not much happened over the winter. That was to change, however, when on May 10, 1940, the sound of Anti Aircraft guns and Luftwaffe planes filled the air. No. 85 squadron immediately jumped into action, and within a few minutes, one section of “A” flight, and one section of “B” flight were up in the air. Lee was leading B flight with Flying Officer Derek Allen and Pilot Officer Patrick Woods-Scawen flying as his numbers 2 and 3 respectively. the section attacked a Henschel 126, and managed to severely damage the aircraft, leaving two of its crew wounded.

Later that morning, Lee was flying Hurricane L1779 into combat, leading his section again. They engaged a Junkers-88 at about 15,000 feet. His combat report reads: “after being sighted E/A dived to a very low height. i could only overhaul from astern very slowly. From 500 yards to 700 yards the enemy rear gunner fired continuously. I fired short bursts and finished ammunition closing to 200 yards. No apparent results except black smoke from one engine. My own aircraft shot badly.”

Later that evening Lee shared in the destruction of a Ju-86 with his section. Lee was the first to open fire and set the enemy’s starboard engine on fire. When they landed, ground crew found that he had fired 50 rounds from each of his eight Browning machine guns during the engagement.

on 11/5/1940, the squadron was back in the thick of it. however, this time after a busy morning patrol, Allen and Woods-Scawen returned without their section leader. Richard Lee was missing. He’d been flying Hurricane N2388, code marked ‘VY-R’ over Maastricht when he engaged a Dornier 17P at approximately 1300 hours. His aircraft had been hit by Anti Aircraft fire and he bailed out of his aircraft slightly wounded. Parachuting down, he landed in a field, where he spotted a local man passing by. He asked the man which direction he should travel to get to the Belgian tanks that were nearby. He took off in the direction, only to find out that they were, in fact, German. Lucky for him, his uniform was concealed underneath a smock or overcoat he had acquired. He was believed to be a peasant and was locked into a barn with some other refugees. Thinking quick, he climbed up to a window and noticed a ladder perched beneath it, and promptly climbed out, walked several miles, and hitched a ride with some Belgians before returning to his unit the very next day. The squadron’s diarist reported that “11/5/40. Eight E/A were shot down today. Flight Lieutenant R.H.A Lee failed to return from the offensive patrol covering the advance of the BEF over the Tongres-Maastricht Section – he was reported last seen on a Dornier’s tail at about 2,000 ft.”

On May 22, No. 85 squadron started to return to Debden to re-equip and reform, and Lee was transferred to No. 56 Squadron. The next day the squadron engaged enemy aircraft over St. Omer while patrolling Manston to Dunkirk. he expended all his ammunition in the dogfight that ensued between the Hurricanes and the 109s, before his starboard wing was badly hit. He broke off and returned to Manston unharmed, and aircraft deemed repairable.

On May 27, he flew another offensive patrol from Manston with the Squadron, flying Hurricane P3311. On this occasion he was shot down by Messerschmitt 109s during an attack on Henschel 111s. he ditched his aircraft in the sea and was fished out of the water and taken ashore an hour later.

On May 31, Lee was awarded the DSO. The London Gazette published the following: “Flight Lieutenant Richard Hugh Anthony Lee, D.F.C. (33208) this officer has displayed great ability as a leader and intense desire to engage the enemy. On one occasion he continued to attack an enemy aircraft after his companion had been shot down, and his own machine hit in many places. His section shot down a Dornier 215 in flames one evening in May, and another in the course of engagement the next day. In his last engagement, he was seen at 200 feet at the tail of a Junkers 89, being subjected to intense fire from the enemy occupied territory. This officer escaped from behind the German lines after being arrested and upheld the highest traditions of the Service.”

In June, he returned to No. 85 squadron, under Squadron Leader Peter Townsend. His experience was called upon to help bring the new recruits upto scratch before the squadron was again ready for operational flying.

On June 26, Richard Lee and his close friend Gerald Lewis flew to an investiture where Lee received his DSO and DFC for his service.

Lee’s reputation as a daring and aggressive fighter pilot was quickly spreading around the air force. Peter Townsend’s good friend Flight Lieutenant John Simpson wrote a letter to his intelligence officer, after hearing about the exploits of Richard Lee.

Simpson, who also coincidentally often flew with Patrick Woods-Scawen’s younger brother Tony, wrote “I hear that Dickie Lee has done wonders. You see how these boys, who were always looked upon as being the naughty ones, are doing so well. They needed a war to convince the old gentlemen at Whitehall. Do you remember that Dickie was almost given his bowler hat for low flying? The same low flying has apparently stood him in good stead.” (apparently he had flown through an open barn, but i have no way of confirming or denying that)

In Hector Bolitho’s book Combat Report published in 1943, he wrote of an afternoon spent with Lee, Townsend and Simpson. “Peter Townsend and Dickie Lee had been posted to an aerodrome a few miles from the house… in the early summer, John and I went out to find them… we found Peter and Dickie and took them back to the house. Dickie followed the car on a hellish motor bicycle.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon and we lay on the lawn, the four of us, with a bowl of ice, a bottle of gin, some tonic water and four glasses, and talked the world away. All three, looked older. Both Dickie and Peter had been shot down and a certain solemnity seemed to have touched them. Dickie had changed more than others.

We used to call him Dopey in the old days because he always fell asleep if the conversation took a serious turn. He was already a hero and in most newspapers there had been photographs of him receiving his decorations from the King. The long hell in France had left creases at the corners of his sleepy eyes. But he would have none of our attempts at war talk. He said that he had a date with a blonde in Saffron Walden and that he could not stay very long.

Dickie’s taste in blondes was not always reassuring to his friends, but he was obviously more concerned with his date than with our efforts to make him talk about how he has won the DFC and DSO on his tunic. I remember when he stood to go I noticed a hole in the leg of his trousers where a bullet had gone through without touching his skin.

I suppose that Peter and John and I were a bit pensive, being the older ones, so Dickie yawned and said ‘Well, I must get cracking’ he made one gesture to sentiment before he went. On the day that was declared he left his favourite pictures with me… before his squadron flew off to France.

They were photographs of friends, of aircraft, and one of a spaniel. He asked me for them, so I brought them down from the attic and he flew off to his blonde with them, piled before him on the screeching, violent motor bicycle.”

August 18, 1940 “the Hardest Day” of course, was when Dickie was lost. Flying as Blue 1 in Hurricane P2923 ‘VY-R’ during this patrol, he was last seen by Squadron Leader Townsend and Flying Officer Arthur Gowers ten miles north-east of Foulness Point chasing Bf 109s out across the Channel.

In Townsend’s book Duel of Eagles he wrote the following of Lee’s last action: “Come back, Dicky,’ I called but he was drawing away. Again and again I called, but he kept on. It was useless to chase Huns out to sea; they would be back again the next day. Something had gotten into Dicky and there was no stopping him. We were both low on fuel and I was out of ammunition. There was only one thing to do: turn back”

Like several others, he was gone too soon. Neither his aircraft nor his body were ever recovered. and aside from these mentions, and a few documents, and acknowledgement on the Runnymede Memorial, Panel 6, there isn’t much about him out there. there’s really not much one can do about that either, other than remember, and keep them alive in our thoughts; those who never returned, whose names faded into obscurity.

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