#mean!chrissy

[trashmouth-richie]

For your two word prompt my love I give you:

Glasses

and Lights

love this so much bb love here’s a little fluffy piece for you 🧡

Eddie x Fem! Reader

W.C 811

Warning: mean Chrissy? IDK

You grab your glasses out of the muddy puddle they flew into after she had pushed you down. She, being the queen of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham; if you were dumb enough to even think that highly of a rich mean girl. With her stupid perfect ponytail bobbing as she laughed with her friends, her blue whore eyeshadow glittering with the sunlight as she closed her eyes, throwing her head back in a fit of laughter. “Watch where you’re going bitch.”

You keep your eyes low as you gather the now soaked notebooks you were carrying, not wanting to give her what she wants. Not letting her see the traitorous tears accumulating in your lash line, you wipe the mud from your glasses and shove them onto your face. You can feel blood trickling through your jeans from the new scrapes on your knees.

A large hand with rings is held out in front of you. You would recognize that hand anywhere. Fingertips, calloused from playing with his band, strong from working on the weekends down at the mechanic shop, and the gaudiest rings known to mankind. Great, what the fuck did he want? You stand up on your own pushing past his grand gesture of suddenly trying to be nice. Eddie Munson was not nice. Him and his stupid, perfect, cheerleader girlfriend terrorized you all of last year. Well not so much him, as it was her. He just kind of stood in the shadows and shook his head whenever Chrissy started in on you.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asks, putting his hands around you but not touching your body, “Let me help you.”

“ ‘m fine.” You murmur as you wipe away some mud from your face.

Eddie’s eyes land on your clothes, taking in the damage. Your glasses are cracked in one of the lenses, your knees are bleeding, and your clothes are covered in mud. You hastily grab your notebooks and stuff them, mus and all, into your tattered backpack. He grabs your chin gently and twists so your cheek is facing him. A small gash is oozing blood down your face slowly. His eyes fill with a hemorrhaging fury as he stomps over to where Chrissy is standing still laughing with her army of cunts.

“Chris what the fuck?!” Eddie fumes, “when is it going to be enough for you?”

Chrissy gets a disgusted look on her face as she crosses her arms and glares up at him, “what are you actually sticking up for the freak? Cause last time I checked Munson, I drugged you out of that position years ago, but if you want to go back— be my guest.” Her snake-like smile was taunting him, she has threatened him with this more times than he could count. Nobody crossed Chrissy and got away with it. She would send her posse of jocks to beat him until he couldn’t see straight, but he simply couldn’t give a shit anymore. Watching her bully the entire school made him sick. He used to be on the receiving end of such bullying until she found out through rumors that he was keeping caged a fairly large hammer in his jeans.

Eddie turns away from Chrissy and grabs your hand gently as he leads you away, “guess I’m a freak again.”

Chrissy is shouting obscenities realizing that she was dumped in front of her friends by Eddie the freak Munson. He raises a middle finger up and gestures it towards her direction. Walking closer to you he opens the passenger door to his van and helps you in. His van smells of weed and musky cheap cologne. The back of the van is littered with amps, spare cords, pillows and blankets. His hands are wrapped tightly around the wheel as his eyes are staring straight ahead. He drives a while before even saying anything, “I’m sorry she did that shit to you, and I’m sorry it went on for that long.”

“it’s ok.” You whimper out as tears fall down your face.

Eddie glances your way and notices you’re crying, “almost there, just hang in there ‘kay?” He pulls into Forest Hills Trailer Park and pulls up to the light blue faded trailer with a rotting saggy couch on the porch. “Here we are,” he says cheerfully.

After what seems like an hour of Eddie fussing over your scraped knees and the cut on your cheek, you are the proud owner of too many bandaids and a heap of neosporin to each cut. He lights up a cigarette as you are both sitting on his bed in the messy room. He inhales deeply as he hands the cigarette to you. “Thank you…f-for everything.” You say wrapping your knees under your chin and hugging your legs.

Eddie nudges your shoulder with his as he takes the cigarette back, “Any time.”

[phantomrose96]

What the hell happens in the pikmin game?? Those little colourful bitches have been around for ages, but i never bothered looking them up, i just figured they were cute little mascots of some game. But your posts are making me question everything. Is it a horror game? (I know i could just google it, but asking you is funnier)

Yeah you're right asking me is much funnier :)

Pikmin is a fun and relaxing game! You play as a little astronaut man who gets to spend his days growing Pikmin, who are sweet and peaceful little plant creatures with leaves, buds, or flowers on their heads. You can corral them around with a little trumpet, like a bouquet of flowers following you through the pretty and whimsical landscapes of planet PNF-404 :)

Wait did I say fun and relaxing?

Sorry, typo.

It's a brutal skill-based survival game (❁´◡`❁)

So then maybe you're wondering, what's up with the Pikmin? What was that about growing a bunch of little flower guys? Well growing the Pikmin is super important!

It's super duper important mainly because you need to replace the Pikmin who die in the carnage of battle for you!

Battle against what?

Everything.

See on PNF-404, Pikmin are the bottom of the food chain. Just about every living breathing creature on this planet is orders of magnitude larger than the Pikmin and munch Pikmin by the hundreds for breakfast. Predators will do this instinctively. They will do this unprompted. They will do this while you're not looking. They will do this endlessly until every last Pikmin is dead.

So... what good are the Pikmin? What chance do they stand?

Really easy. Pikmin are the most violent creatures in the entire game 🥰🥰🥰.

How else do you survive when you're small and fragile other than incredible violence? Pikmin can exist out and about in swarms of up to 100. And the only way to survive predators as small little leaf creatures is to beat those predators to death with incredible mob violence before they can kill all of you.

Pikmin don't die like plants. They die like warriors.

And sometimes, this is the hardest mechanic to handle. Left to their own devices Pikmin will seek to shed blood. It's up to you to call them away from orchestrating their own demise, their own pursuit of the glory of Valhalla. It's in their nature. It's in their plant-blood.

And they go down hard. They shriek when snapped up in the jaws of predators. They glub and wail when drowning in water. They trill out screams when on fire. They choke and cough in poison. They die instantly to electricity. And you'll know a Pikmin is well and truly dead once it lets out a final whimper, and a ghost drifts away from where it once stood. This can happen by the dozens. This can happen to all 100 at once.

So wait, wait I've gotten far ahead of myself. Why the violence? Why the death? Why the fighting? What was that about a little astronaut man?

Well your astronaut man is Olimar, an honest and simple family man who's a freight ship captain from his home planet of Hocotate. He's a truck driver! He's just a guy taking his first vacation in years.

And a meteorite strikes his ship, tearing it to pieces as it crash-lands on a completely uncharted planet. Welcome to PNF-404...

And so you're Olimar. A truck driver. A nice dad. A victim of capitalism with the world's worst boss. Out on vacation.

Your ship is destroyed. No one is coming for you. No one will save you.

The oxygen on PNF-404 is poisonous.

You have 30 days before your life support system runs out.

You have 30 days until you die a brutal and lonely death.

Your only hope is to find every scattered missing piece of your ship--30 of them--strewn across the planet, return them to your ship, and repair it, before your 30 days are up.

But this is simply impossible. You're one tiny little man. You wouldn't be able to lift a single piece of your ship, let alone 30 of them, let alone doing so while fending off the wildlife hellbent on killing you.

But the Pikmin seem to like you...

So all that death? All the carnage and destruction? It's all in the effort to repair Olimar's ship before he suffocates. You pave a path of destruction decorated with the bodies of any creature that stands before you and your missing ship pieces.

The Pikmin do it. The Pikmin trust you. The Pikmin follow your command and die by your command. After all, you're growing their species. Oh did I forget to explain that part? The "how" of how growing Pikmin works?

Simple. Pikmin are grown from the corpses of the creatures they kill :).

If you kill something, the Pikmin take it back to their base and process it for pieces, and grow new Pikmin from it. That's how you get all the nice little flower creatures following you around. :)

Is it good enough? Can you sleep at night knowing that 50 creatures who trusted you implicitly were slaughtered under your misdirection? All to retrieve a hunk of metal which is 1/30 of the hope of getting you home alive? 100 slaughtered? 200? Day 30 is approaching. Things are looking bleak.

You're Olimar. Day 30 has arrived, and you haven't fully reconstructed your ship. You have no option to stay. Your life support has run out. You watch the Pikmin you've left behind, as you attempt to start up your ship which has not been safely repaired.

You try to take off, and try to make it home.

It does not go well.

But at least the Pikmin have another corpse to carry.

[nowritingonthewall]

Somebody hug Marc like that, please 🥺

[flowercrowngods]

@steddie-week

part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)

day 02: bittersweet & angst

1 new message

eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺

Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.

It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.

And that's the last thing Steve wants.

"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."

"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.

"Steve."

"I can't not go."

"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"

"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.

"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."

Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.

But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.

But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.

To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.

To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.

Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.

"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.

Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.

And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.

Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.

"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."

"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.

The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.

Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.

—I'll come!

And especially when there's a new message immediately.

—hot 🥵❤️

He leaves Eddie on read after that.

~*~

Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.

There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.

God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.

He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–

"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.

She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.

"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."

"Hi."

He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.

"Oh shit! That it?"

"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"

"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.

Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.

Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.

"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.

"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."

"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.

But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.

When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.

“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.

“Good to see you again, too, old man.”

Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.

After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.

Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.

Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.

“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”

“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”

The whole table laughs at that.

“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.

A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.

Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.

Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.

“How are you doing, son?”

He frowns. “I’m alright.”

Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.

“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”

Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.

Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.

They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.

I always figured it would be you.

But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.

“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!

Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.

“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”

Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”

“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”

No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”

Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"

"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.

The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.

"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.

"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."

Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.

“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”

“You bring your car?”

He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“

“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.

“Wayne, no—“

“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”

Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.

I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.

“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I can’t do this.

He nods, numb again.

“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”

He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.

Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.

I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.

He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.

I’ll do anything. Anything but this.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here

[invisible-pink-toast]

[ebongawk]

he so is

[joansblondells]

STRANGER THINGS 4's new character Chrissy Cunningham has a 'do that might look familiar. Her hair design was inspired by Olivia Newton-John’s character Sandy in GREASE—very American good girl and classic cheerleader—but with very ‘80s bangs. - NetflixFilm on twitter

Chrissy Cunningham in Netflix's Stranger Things S4 (2022) + Sandy Olsson in Grease (1978)

+BONUS

[notajoinerofthings]

My colleague greeted me with Die Amerikaner haben mir jetzt schon den Tag versaut at 7:30 this morning, and I can't believe the German government was like hold my beer

[harringroveera]

Robin: Billy, how do I begin to explain Billy?

Eleven: Billy is flawless

Heather: I heard his hair's insured for 10000$

Chrissy: I heard he did car commercials in Japan

Steve: One time he punched me in the face. It was awesome. We're actually dating now

[sturnioloho]

i need to lay on top of him

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

There is a voicemail on the answering machine when Steve gets home that night. It's from his Uncle Phillip, stumbling through a clumsy message about Chrissy's death, all while he can hear his Aunt Laura wailing in the background. He cuts the message off halfway, rewinding it for his parents to listen to when they return from wherever they've been. Whenever they return.

He picks up the phone, dials Gareth's number, and immediately hangs up before anyone can answer. This is a phone call that needs to wait. Even though all of Steve is itching to reach out to the family that still matters to him, he can't. He can't offer comfort or kind words or even offer to just be there. He's got the Upside Down to deal with first.

The Upside Down has returned and they don't have El and her powers. They don't have Hopper or Joyce. What they have is Steve. Steve is the only adult left in Hawkins that knows anything. It's his job to protect them all, somehow. Someway.

He's the adult.

Fuck. He can't think about this anymore tonight. He's so fucking tired. Instead of climbing the stairs to his room, he flops onto the couch in the living room, falling quickly into sleep plagued by nightmares.

Meanwhile, across town, Gareth has finally pried himself free of his mother's grip and slunk to his room. He flops on his bed and rolls to stare up at the ceiling.

He feels numb.

Chrissy is- she was- and in his best friend's house. And now Eddie is missing. What if whoever killed Chrissy kidnapped Eddie? Is something worse going to happen to Eddie?

And his mom and dad. They wouldn't say it to his face, but he can tell they blame Eddie. Maybe not blame, as in think he's the murderer, but certainly blame, in that, they think it's his fault Chrissy's dead. That whoever murdered Chrissy was really out to murder Eddie and Chrissy was an innocent bystander turned victim.

When his uncle called with the news it was unbelievable. His parents had seen the news, knew about the murder, but the police hadn't stated a name yet. He'd been asked so many questions, mostly about who Eddie knew that could have been over, but Gareth didn't have answers. Eddie hadn't mentioned anyone that was going to go to his house.

The police didn't take long actually identifying Chrissy, because they're reached out to next of kin and then Uncle Phillip had called, spoken to his dad and it's-

Well, it's all unbelievable. Hawkins has always been so dull and boring. Nothing happens here! Well, beyond that time the Byers kid went missing, then was dead but then not or whatever. And the fire at the brand-new mall but that was an accident, so even though a lot of people died, it was- it wasn't a murder.

Eddie is missing.

Chrissy is dead.

And Gareth is here, finally alone, in his room. His parents hadn't let him out of their sight since the phone call, and he can't really blame them. The death of someone in a family always makes his parents cling tighter to him but never before has the person who's passed been younger than his parents. He's been to the funeral for an uncle on his mom's side, which was her older brother, as well as for both his grandparents on his father's side.

Steve's side, he thinks. He knows Chrissy's dad called Steve's house, but his aunt and uncle probably aren't even in town. They barely were when Steve was a minor. Now that they can legally abandon him, they probably won't hear about Chrissy until Thanksgiving.

Jesus. Is Steve doing okay with the news? He knows he's got a best friend who stays more nights than not but are they there now, or is Steve alone?

Tears build in his eyes again as he thinks about when they were all younger, each just a year apart in school but all each other's first best friend. It used to be Steve, Chrissy, and himself against the world. Why had that changed?

Oh.

He knows. He changed it, heading into his freshman year. He told them he didn't want to hang out with them in high school.

And now Chrissy's dead and he realizes he no longer knows her -knew her- well enough to know why she'd be at Eddie's. Were they friend? Was Eddie her dealer? Did Chrissy even smoke weed? He knew she was dating Jason Carver but- was she also into Eddie? Chrissy had never seemed the kind of person to cheat, but what did Gareth actually know about her at the end of the day?

At the end of her life?

He rolls onto his side and sobs, curling into himself with all these unanswered questions running through his mind until he cries himself to sleep.

Steve has been awake for maybe ten minutes before Dustin is calling. The Upside Down waits for no man, so Steve finds himself picking up Dustin, Robin, and Max, and then they go to Cerebro to eavesdrop on the police.

Dustin talks him into handing his wallet over so he can run into the store and buy Eddie something for breakfast.

They deliver bad news to Eddie, follow a police car, meet up with Nancy, Robin and Nancy go to the library, he drives Max and Dustin first to Ms. Kelley's house, then the school. Once Robin and Nancy join them, Max fills them in on some depressing news before noises from the hallway draw their attention.

It turns out to be Lucas, here to warn about Jason.

Steve isn't meaning to eavesdrop when Lucas saddles up next to Dustin on the way to Steve's car and says, "Jason. He, uh, he went to Gareth's. Looking for Eddie. And he. Did you know Gareth and Chrissy Cunningham were cousins?"

Steve stumbles but if anyone noticed they don't call him on it.

Dustin says, "no. Oh, no. Don't tell me-"

"Yeah," Lucas confirms an unspoken question, "he's joined Jason's hunt for Eddie."

"Shit," Dustin and Steve say at the same time.

Unlike Steve, Gareth wakes late. It's almost noon before he drags himself from bed and to the bathroom.

A half hour later, he's clean and fed, and dialing Steve's number for the third time in a row, to get a third answering machine pickup.

"Answer the goddamn phone, Steve!" He snarls into the receiver this time, not having left messages the first two times. Just hung up and dialed again, then. "Have you heard about- I need you, so answer your fucking phone."

He slams the phone back into its cradle. His parents are still lost in their own fear and sorrow, because neither of them scold him for his language or the treatment of the phone.

He calls Jeff, and then Frankie, to cancel practice. They're worried but don't push when Gareth blames his mom. Then he spends another two hours trying to get a hold of Steve, and even Wayne a couple times, but no one answers.

He is surprised, and a little annoyed, when he mom comes to his room a bit later in the day to let him know he has guests at the door. He hauls himself from his bed, ready to tell the guys to fuck off, but when he steps outside to Chrissy's boyfriend instead of Jeff, the words die on his tongue.

Carver, some other guys from the basketball team, and Lucas Sinclair standing in the way back, are waiting for him on his lawn. Gareth closes the front door before slowly stepping off the porch. "Can I help you?"

"We're looking for Eddie. He here?" Carver asks.

"No."

Carver nods, hands shoved into his letterman lifting and dropping, like he was going to make a 'what can you do' gesture but forgot his hands were in his pockets. "Know where we can find him?"

They're looking for Eddie. This is -was- Chrissy's boyfriend. He probably knows the truth as much as Gareth does. And, he wants to know more. He's sure, judging by the tension in Carver's stance and how Lucas is shaking his head no behind them all, that Carver's probably convinced Eddie did it. So, if Gareth wants the truth, he needs to find Eddie, too. "You try Dustin Henderson's house?"

Carver looks surprised by the freely given information, and Lucas looks betrayed. "No. But we will. Thanks."

"I'm coming with."

Carver, who had turned away, turns back slowly. "You think so?"

"She's my cousin. Chrissy. So, yeah, I think I'm coming," Gareth hopes it's enough to get Carver to agree. If Eddie's innocent, Gareth wants to be there to help him. And if- if the fucking worst has happened and Eddie did it.

Well. He wants to be there to help with that, too.

[phantomrose96]

I'm about to throw stones but when people my age say "I don't like these Gen Z teenage tone indicators. How am I supposed to MEMORIZE all these new abbreviations? '/nm'? '/lh'? I hate it." it sounds utterly indistinguishable from our parents being like "I don't get this text speak. 'omg'? 'lol'? SAY what you mean! Don't abbreviate!" Like I dunno how to tell you that evolving language involves... learning the evolved parts of language.

I understand like 4 tone indicators and I'm frequently confused but I support it. It's honestly a good solution to tone lost over text imo. I'm ancient and my bones are full of dust but I'll figure it out.

[nowritingonthewall]

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 04: here come the tears

a/n: the people have requested a surprise eddie pov and i have decided to pull a eurovision and ignore the public vote, just a little bit. but you get a tiny eddie pov, as a treat 🤍

Steve is crying. It's 1:07 a.m. and Steve is crying. And there is nothing Eddie can do about it as he's lying in bed, his heart breaking further with every passing second that they lie there in silence, quiet sniffles carrying over the phone. 

Steve is crying and Eddie is breaking. Steve is not talking to him and Eddie is breaking. Steve is not okay, and neither is Eddie. They're both breaking. 

And Eddie doesn't know what to do about it, how to fix it. How to make it better. How to tell Steve that he misses him, how to ask him to talk to him, how to keep him. To stop him from slipping through his fingers further and further until all there is is silence. 

"You know," his mind wanders back to years ago, his heart cracking at the memory. "I had the biggest crush on him for the longest time. Forever, really."

He remembers the way Steve's eyebrows shot up, his eyes round with... shock? Surprise? Or maybe something bad? 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah," Eddie had chuckled, fiddling with the straw in his drink to give his hands something to do. "Remember that kiss?" Steve nodded. "Well." Another chuckle, awkward this time, and possibly too revealing. 

Steve grinned at him, a self satisfied smirk that wavers just a little. "So you're saying you did fall madly in love with me, Munson?" 

Eddie's breath had hitched a little because Steve remembered those words so perfectly that had since doomed Eddie completely. But he covered it up with a laugh so easily, he was sure Steve didn't notice. 

"Maybe," he grinned. "But eh, that's in the past." 

It wasn't a lie; not really. But wasn't the truth either. 

The truth was that Eddie had moved on. The truth was that it's the kind of crush that was never really a crush. The kind that is a Forever more than anything else. 

The kind that will always be there, a flame burning inside my chest that carries your name and keeps it alive, keeps me warm. The kind of flame that will always be ready to become a bonfire again. Just say the word, Stevie. It's written in the universe. Say the word and I'll be yours. 

"Good," Steve said after a while, and Eddie remembers frowning, remembers that he wanted to ask what that tone was, what Steve was thinking. If he was worried or disgusted or felt betrayed that Eddie's been so hopelessly and helplessly in love with him. 

But all he said was, "Yeah. Remember Chrissy? We're kinda official now." 

And Eddie had known then just as he does now, that he'll be a happy man with Chrissy. She's his best friend, a sunshine on bleak days. She's no Steve, but she makes him happy. He had to move on from Steve – to try – and allow himself his own kind of happiness. He'd never expected to find it with Chrissy, but he loves her so much. He's grown to love her in the past years – not the movie kind of love, not the all-encompassing Steve kind of love, because that flame inside his chest can still only carry one name. 

But life is not a movie. And love is not always a fire. But he's still warm, still content, still happy. And so is Chrissy. She knows about his flame, says she understands. Eddie thinks he has one of her own, but he never asked; just held her that night, creating more of that silent happiness.

…Is he happy? Lying in bed, listening to Steve's quiet breaths that are barely audible over the phone, remembering the kiss, the confession, the Forever that he tried to move on from, he wonders what he's doing. Wonders if that contentment is worthwhile if it somehow lead him to losing Steve. 

Did he miss something? Did he fuck up without realising? 

He can't ask; Steve won't talk. 

All he can do is lie there and feel that flame that still carries Steve's name after ten, eleven, twelve years scorching his insides. 

All he can do is wonder if the whispered, "Good night, Stevie. I miss you," is some kind of goodbye. All he can do is lie awake all night and wonder where they started losing each other. 

~*~

Missing Eddie is worse than loving him. Missing Eddie makes it feel like all the heartbreak songs are written for Steve and his pain that will persist.

It’s been three months since the engagement party, and the sharp, biting heartache that cut into his lungs every time Steve tried to take a deep breath has dulled now, turned into a constant ache, an emptiness, the sorrowful traces of where an I love you turned into an I miss you. 

He’s barely talking to Eddie anymore, and with every passing day he just misses him more. 

Steve types the words I miss you over and over and over again, but never hits send. Just stares at them, wondering if Eddie knows. Wondering if he’s doing the right thing. He isn’t. There is no right thing. Nothing is right. Not without Eddie. 

He scrolls up in their chat, past Eddie’s questions if he’s okay, past his very own I miss yous, up and up and up to the strings of hearts, to the inside jokes, to the gentle teasing, to the You’re my favourite persons, to the happiness and joy and good, good times. 

He scrolls and scrolls until his phone vibrates and tells him there’s a new message in the chat. Steve frowns, his hollow heart racing as he scrolls down again to see Eddie’s new message. 

Eddie Munson: — Can I come over? 

Steve frowns. 

— why? are you okay? 

Eddie Munson: — No. — Nothing is okay. You’re gone and you’re not talking to me and I miss you and I’m losing you and I don’t know why — I dont know anything. — I just wanna know, wanna talk, wanna understand — I wanna fix this. I fucked up, I think, and I wanna make it better. — I need to talk to you — Please. Please can I come over 

Steve swallows hard, as he reads the incoming messages over and over again, watching the little bubble that says Eddie’s typing still. Watching as it disappears and reappears, reading until his eyes begin to sting and his vision is blurred with tears for the first time this week. 

Letting them fall as he types, 

— no. please dont 

Eddie doesn’t reply to that, and Steve breathes out long and hard, throwing his phone to the side, not caring where it lands on the couch as he slumps over to the other side, turning up the music even louder. 

Oh, can you tell I haven’s slept very well Since the last time that we spoke. I said, ‘Please understand I’ve been drinking again And all I do is hope.’

It consumes him, this song and the way it was written for him. The way it was written about him. Because he has no right to ask Eddie to stay. He’s the one who’s leaving. He’s the one not telling Eddie what is wrong, why he’s pulling back so suddenly. 

I’m not strong enough for the both of us. What was I supposed to do, You know I love you. Please, stay.

Please stay. Please, please, please stay. It’s about him. It’s about Eddie. About them. 

And Steve listens to it over and over again, not caring that his neighbours will know it by heart by know, will be so tired of him wallowing for weeks and months, and will come knocking soon. He doesn’t care, not when Mayday Parade are singing, All the love’s still there, I just don’t know what to do with it now. 

He types that into Eddie’s chat. Doesn’t hit send. Sends it to Robin instead, and gets a shaking hands emoji in return. It makes him smile as he re-starts the song. 

~*~

That night, he wakes around 2 a.m. to a missed call an hour ago and one new message on his mailbox. He lifts his phone to his ear with shaking hands and bated breath, a pit opening in his stomach when he hears the Judas Priest song that’s been in his Sad Eddie playlist since the beginning. 

His heart cracks open when he hears Eddie’s sniffle, a heavy sigh, and another sniffle, followed by a little, Fuck. 

“Stevie? I’m… You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to just— to just disappear. To slip through my fucking fingers, or float away like a— a dream, when you wake up, and you wanna go back to sleep because it was a good dream, and you— I don’t wan’ you to be a good dream Steve. You’re like… Fuck, man!” 

Eddie’s voice is breaking, and so is Steve’s heart as his hand begins to tremble and he sits up in bed, closing his eyes, squeezing them shut because he doesn’t want to see the world as Eddie’s rambling at him. 

“I miss you. I miss you so much, and I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t… I don’t wanna miss you. How do I get you back, Stevie? Please just… God, please just talk to me. I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just tell me, just say the word. Just… Just say the word, please.” 

There’s silence after that, only Judas Priest’s Here come the tears over and over as the song is ending. Steve is crying as he listens to Eddie’s silence. 

“Just. Just… Please, Stevie.” 

The call ends then, the line cutting to the staticky voice instructing him to save or delete the message. Steve saves it. He doesn’t know why. 

He also doesn’t know why he’s scrolling through his contacts with trembling hands and hits Call when he reaches Eddie. 

The call doesn’t even get to the second ring before it’s picked up already. 

“Stevie?” Eddie sounds breathless, wild, and just a little hoarse. Like he was still crying. 

“Hi,” he says lamely, still shaking, a little breathless himself, and with absolutely no idea what he should say. 

“I’m… Hi.” 

Silence falls, and Steve wipes at his eyes. He’s still in bed, just sitting there with his phone pressed to his ear, and the ball that’s coiled inside him is growing larger and larger with each passing second that he doesn’t say Sorry, that he doesn’t say I miss you, too. That he doesn’t say I love you. 

“Can I come in?” 

He blinks, the question throwing him off his thought spiral. “Huh?” 

“I’m sort of… outside your building right now.” 

Why, he wants to ask. No, he wants to say. You’re gonna see, you’re gonna know, you’re gonna hate me forever. 

“Okay,” he breathes and climbs out of bed, blanket around his shoulders despite the summer heat, because suddenly he’s freezing. He buzzes Eddie in, listens to him on the phone as he walks up the stairs, neither of them thinking of hanging up, and opens his doors with shaking, trembling hands. 

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @imzadidragonfly @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript (sorry if i missed anyone just give me a shout if i did <3)and thanks to everyone who said nice things about this 🤍🌷

come back tomorrow/later for [redacted] | read here

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

I don’t understand why so many people in the fandom seem to believe that Eddie being attracted to Chrissy and Eddie being attracted to Steve are mutually exclusive. I’m taking the truly enlightened position that Eddie is bisexual as fuck and attracted to both of them.

[heaven4lostgirls]

July (E.M)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warning: toxic relationship, yelling, angst, breakup, eddie is a dick, eddie meltdown

summary: based off of the song ‘july’ by noah cyrus

word count: 1.1k

a/n: was in the mood to write some angst so here you go! this is kind of heavy so proceed with caution, also new theme anyone?

“I’m sorry Eddie! Just listen to me please” you plead as he continues to storm through the door of your shared apartment. He’s seeing red and your body is filled with anxiety, this is not how you imagined your birthday evening going.

“How am I supposed to listen to you when that’s all I’ve been doing this entire evening?! It’s like you didn’t even want me there” he cries as he cracks open another bottle of beer and slinks onto the couch. He had spent the better part of the evening making his usual jokes, often at your own expense and you tried to take it with a pinch of salt, but you were so tired of being the butt of the joke.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Eddie, all I’ve asked is that you stop making jokes about me like that-”

“No! what do you did was make me look like an asshole in front of your friends, I’m always the bad guy when you’re around them, even Chrissy see’s it!”

There it is. The entire fucking reason this conversation happened. Eddie was always bringing up Chrissy in your presence, how often could you hear the name of another girl leave your boyfriends mouth before you had enough? The answer? Right now.

“I’m so sick of you bringing up Chrissy whenever we argue Eddie! She is not your girlfriend! I am!” you cry shamelessly as you explode in front of him as he already looks completely over the conversation. You don’t have it in you to keep having these arguments.

“Why am I never enough for you?” your voice cracks and Eddie’s indifferent expression fades when he realises this isn’t your usual arguments, not once have you ever questioned his love for you and his heart drops to his stomach as he realises this just may be your breaking point.

“Wait, wait hold on sweetheart-”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore Eddie” you sniffle, and your hands shake as you wipe your tears. Eddie shakes his head vehemently and tries to reach out for you, but you step away from him. He’s sick to his fucking stomach. He spent most of the argument angry, so sure of himself that you were in the wrong but as of right now, he’s not so sure.

“Let’s just talk this through o-okay? Please let’s just have a conversation” he pleads as he anxiously begs you to listen to pathetic reasons before you decide to walk out on him.

“I can’t Eddie, not when I’ve spent the last 3 months lying in bed alone as you throw back beers watching tv with Chrissy on the phone.” You tell him and watch as his expression turns fearful at your impassive yet pitiful gaze at his trembling form.

 “I waited for you” your voice cracks alongside Eddie’s heart. “I waited for you to climb into bed, tell me you love me, that I was enough for you, and you never did” tears roll silently down your face and Eddie looks close to bawling.

His eyes fill with his own tears at the reality of losing you,, he’s blocked out the noise surrounding him as he purely focuses  on your fragile form, your makeup is smeared and your hands are shaking, he remembers how he used to hold you, be your sense of comfort when the anxiety took over and now he’s become the sole perpetuator of the same monster’s  he swore he’d protect you from.

“Please baby- please just let me fix this okay? Let me fix us!” he probably  looks pathetic on his knees as he tries to pull you into him, you resist but his shaking and sobbing form is enough to let you relent and place your hand on his head as you turn your face to the ceiling, willing the tears to stop.

“Do you remember what you told me when you saw Chrissy at the bar last week?” you whisper quietly to Eddie’s shaking form, he sniffles and shakes his head, looking up to you with red rimmed eyes.

“I asked to leave because I felt uncomfortable and you told me to go, said you’d meet me at home” you chuckle bitterly. Every single comment Eddie had made to you in the last 3 months almost came bubbling out of you, yet you refrained.

“I’ve had my bags packed since then” you confess to him and watch as his face drops, knowing you’ve spent the last week planning on leaving him. “I needed you to tell me to leave, I would’ve stayed if you didn’t say that, and we would’ve carried on being miserable.”

Eddie shakes his head, that’s not true, you two weren’t miserable, right? Sure, you fought but all couples did that, it was normal! At least Eddie thought so, you didn’t really mean that he made you miserable, any minute now you’d hug him and tell him you were overreacting and he’d hug you so tight you’d do that little squeal-giggle you do, then he’d take you to your shared bedroom where he’d lay you down and tell you how much you meant to him, how much he needed you. He would love you right, he promises to make all that true as soon as this is over.

However, that doesn’t happen, in fact, you let go of him with a sad smile and make your way to the bedroom only to return seconds later with two packed duffle bags. Eddie’s ears ring as he tries to shake himself out of his anxious stance. Do something! Say something! Anything! You can’t let her leave like this! His mind screams at him, he stays still.

Watching as you make your way to him and kiss his forehead, he sucks in a sharp breath when he realises this is goodbye. “I truly hope you find someone that loves you better than I did” you whisper, and he winces. Nobody would ever be able to love him the way you did, unconditionally, even when he fucked up, you loved him until he took your love for granted.

Somehow through all of this, you hold no animosity to Eddie, you feel at peace for once as you walk to your car. Finally leaving behind the jail you found yourself in, it feels freeing, and you can’t help but let out a hysterical giggle.

However, upstairs on the couch of your once shared apartment, Eddie lays shaking and crying on the floor, holding your pillow to his chest, chanting continuously “wake up, it's just a dream, she’s coming back. Wake up, it's just a dream, she’s coming back.”