#or the Eddie breakdown part 3

[watchyourbuck]

my predictions for 911 s8 based on show predictability and what I think were easter eggs throughout s7

bucktommy sex scene (implied or other)

eddie vs gerard

mara adoption at the end of the season

new madney baby (also end of the season)

eddie big (queer) emotional break

short but important ravi arc

buck firefighting accident + mild injury

bathena temporary housing problems

chris mid season return home

[kinardsevan]

What is your opinion on Tommy coming back or not? And in they case we see him again, do you think it’ll be just for closure (ex: Abby in season 3) or maybe for a BuckTommy second chance?

fun fact: i was considering doing an entire breakdown with a bunch of Oliver's interviews from the start of this arc until now to point to my opinion:

Tommy is coming back. The romcom theme is still in effect, and we're only about midway through the 3rd act.

Long story short (and without sources right now), I think that the interviews were actuallly pointing in this direction with the wording for a hot second. We have OS telling us that he thinks the best relationships have a "will they, won't they" bit where the audience and the characters are pining. We've seen this play out on the show. And we also have to remember that Oli knew during this interview that the breakup was coming. We also have the interview (I believe it was the Decider one I linked last week) where he mentions choosing to fight for the relationship or not. I feel like a lot of people have taken the context of that and twisted it into "they didn't do it right away, so they're not going to". Except, there's ANOTHER quote of relevance, which is Oliver talking about how Buck's queerness isn't tied to Tommy or Eddie, and only to himself.

Obviously, there have been things said since 806 that would point towards me being delulu, except, here's the issue: TM, OS and LFJr are NOT going to tell us that Tommy is coming back if that's the intention. It would spoil the surprise of it all, and the win of it all. What fun is there in that? What TM has said is that Tommy is Buck's romantic past but that doesn't mean he won't turn up again in the future (all relevant and true facts which do not shut down a reconciliation). Lou never out-and-out said he was done with the show. He's said time and time again that he wants to come back. TM has mentioned Tommy coming around again. OS literally said in an interview "they may run into each other on scene and have it be awkward".

Now obviously we don't actually have the full story with how things went down and the show decided to go with splitting the boys up. I think the fact that Lou has called out the bullying but says he wants to come back suggests that it wasn't him saying it was too much. I have two theories that could honestly run concurrent with one another:

Evan and Tommy break up in 806 at the end of the episode. With 911 having 18 episode seasons, this quite literally only makes up the first third of the season. It set up the beginning of the year for us. We're now two episodes into the second part of the season with a pretty clear idea of where the next three will go and suggestions (by fans, nothing official) that the "soonest" we could see LFJr again is 812. This is reasonable, as it would be the end of the middle of the season. Knowing that TM has suggested he might do a multi-episode season finale, pushing LFJr back into the show in 812 (or even the end of 811 if we go with my theory that Eddie could possibly leave around this time and Tommy helps them pack up/his and Buck's first time spending time around each other again), there would still likely be something around this time period that would be around when they would open the doors to this. As it is, we know that 809 and 810 go together, and then we'd have 811 to really flesh out the end of Buck's fling. I think there's even more possibility of LFJr being in this episode as well because if the plan is to bring them back together (which everything has been suggested so far ON screen in terms of keeping Tommy "in" the story), three-episode arc gives us several things: a. it allows the show to make the point that Buck's queerness is not intrinsically attached to Tommy; that his interest in men is as equal as he know his interest in women is. b. it gives them the ability to also show that his feelings for Tommy are not based in Tommy being his "first", or Evan needing to "discover" more about himself. They're in love with each other, and the show has given us the pieces for that. LFJr has acknowledged it in an interview, Tommy loves Buck. We also know that Tommy's line to Evan is "you'd end up breaking my heart, and I don't think I could deal with that". When I hear that sentence, what I'm actually hearing is "I'm already in love with you, and if I let myself fall more in love with you by being with you every day all the time and this ends, I won't survive it". By relation, we have Josh ask Buck if he loves Tommy and Buck waffles, but I think this has more to do with his lack of understanding of what a healthy love is in a relationship, given his past relationships. He never got to tell Abby. Ali left. and saying I love you to Taylor wasn't about the core of actually being in love with her, which I think is another important piece for BuckTommy: they don't just love each other, they're in love with each other. Still, sometimes it's hard to quantify that feeling, and I think (as I've referenced before), for Evan it was easier to ask Tommy to share a living space with him than to share how he feels about him because historically, things haven't worked out well for him when he's been in love outwardly. Further, the questions Josh asks Evan are directly correlated with loving someone, and Evan answers yes to all of them. (I don't think I need to add this, but he also sees a future with Tommy, talks about being engaged or married. He's serious about Tommy in a way he never has been before.)

There's also the theory that the breakup happened because of scheduling conflicts. Now obviously the show could've found other ways to work around LFJr's scheduling issues by having Tommy go on a trip or what-have-you, but let's remember OTHER things that have been said by OS in prior interviews: a. back in June, he did an interview where he stated that he wanted and hoped that BuckTommy would go through issues that couples normally go through in their first year together. He wanted normal issues. This storyline IS normal. b. he didn't want to repeat Tarlos. By the very definition of what the show is doing right now, we're not. Tarlos and BuckTommy are their own things with their own reasonings.

One of the other things I also keep being pulled back to is these issues: first of all, we know how LFJr plays with the 911 demo, given that they got to see it last season. It's why he was written into more episodes after his initial four episode arc and brought back. ABC has also used BuckTommy in their own adverts, which suggests that they are very supportive of the relationship continuing because it draws in viewers. Truly giving that up for good feels like dousing yourself in gasoline and then considering striking a match. Second, people also keep calling out that TM only plans a few weeks in advance. I believe this is true with story beats. We know that the writers room has a general idea on character arcs, thanks to some of the discussion on the cheese page post-806. I really struggle to believe that TM didn't know going into going forward with the breakup whether or not he wanted to bring LFJr back. We know he waffled back and forth on the idea of the breakup, meaning he probably had other solutions on his mind for whatever LFJr's schedule needed adjusting for, and this is what he decided on. Also, even if 8b hasn't been broken down yet (we know it hasn't), they would still know at this point what they do or don't want, what their ideas might be. Solidification for why Tommy should be brought back is directly shown in the reaction by the GA and the fandom to the breakup. They may not know exactly how that reunion happens yet, but what they have suggested is that Buck's new relationship will be short-lived. That he's using it to cope. We also know he's still processing the break-up and still misses Tommy. These are all things that point to the story not being over. Plus, I feel (once again), if the story really was over and they didn't have plans to continue this in 8b, LFJr wouldn't be talking about wanting to go back. It be far more "yeah that sucked, but it's over now and what can you do? I'm off to this new show and I'll never be back." (I've commented also on the fact that the fangirlish interview comment about his "i'm going here, doing this, have some opportunities" statement is very run-of-the-mill. Obvs I could mean something. Or it could literally just be a canned answer.) (This might feel a little off-center, but I think his commentary on trusting TM and knowing what he's doing in one of his post-806 interviews directly suggests that he believes the story is going to be handled properly.)

I realize at the end of the day, all of what I'm piecing together could mean zilch and Tommy could possibly never come back. They could truly just drop the story and never circle back around, set fire to a beautiful arc and lose thousands (possibly millions) of viewers. I've certainly suggested myself being one of them. But I don't see BuckTommy only getting an Abby fix for two reasons. LFJr wants to come back and continue the story, and Connie Britton only ever intended to do one season. Also, the fling has been called out as being planned to be short-lived. Why bother mentioning that if you don't have other plans for the story.

The last thing I'll leave you with is my commentary from the interview Oli and Aisha did with the guy from Chicago. That reporter obviously liked the BuckTommy storyline and said he's choosing to believe that the relationship is paused, not over. By relation, we had Oliver say three things: (1 and 2) Buck is still looking for love, both in himself and with another person. (3)The season is only half over. Circle that back to 806-808. Buck is finding love in himself by dealing with it in a healthy way (so far) with the baking. We've also seen the "cracks" Oli mentioned with his continued urge to want to text Tommy, as well as him fighting it off by baking (referencing the "pendulum swinging"). Looking for love in others will likely be this arc where he tries to deal/move on. I feel like we collectively watched the end of 806, and then 807 and 808 yelling at the TV "you're in love with him, piece it together already!" (or maybe that was just me???). But truly, whether it's a fling, his therapist, or Bobby/Maddie/Eddie who finally spells it out of or him, I think there will be a point at which we see that come to fruition. The seeds were sewn in for it in the scene with Josh. Now it's just about watching those seeds sprout.

Final note: we've had a good run up to this point with these two. Did we truly thing that the honeymoon phase would last forever? (I didn't. Conflict and the pink bubble popping have to happen eventually.) If we really want to suggest that what BuckTommy has is real, they have to go through this and come out the other side. I think everyone is justifiably frustrated due to the 4 month wait on new episodes (I personally would not have left people hanging quite like this, but that's just me), but the narrative does lead us toward what the show is doing with the suggestion that it does have a natural (and good) conclusion. (Possibly with a helicopter/truck/jeep crash?!)

And just as my singularly LAST note, here's my other thing: Evan and Tommy both have abandonment issues. (Tommy's are clear based on the break up and we know Buck's.) By that correlation, when these two finally get back together, they're never going to fucking let the other go.

(This was so much longer than I intended it to be, but that's my answer 😂😂😂😂😂😂)

[runninriot]

Substitute Santa

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 22

prompt: Santa | rated: G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve Harrington, pre Steddie

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

"Thank you, son. This means a lot to me."

Eddie grumbles into the phone, says 'No problem, old man. I'm happy to help.' before hanging up, not really feeling his own words despite his uncle's gratitude.

Eddie groans loudly, head tilted back, eyes pinched close - he really should've just said no. But he knows how important this is to Wayne and for all that man has done for him, this really is only a small favour to ask of his nephew.

It's just- ugh.

The prospect of having to sit in a room full of noisy, snotty children for three hours, wearing that ridiculous costume, sweating his butt off underneath the suit, is one Eddie could definitely do without.

For as long as he can remember, every year, his uncle has dressed up as Santa for the Hawkins' annual Christmas charity event at the community centre.

This year, unfortunately, Wayne won't be able to make it because- 'How are the kids supposed to believe Santa will bring their gifts in time when he can't even walk properly?'

Because unlike Santa, Wayne isn't some kind of magical creature, so when he tripped and broke his foot, it meant cast and crutches and rest, even if he keeps forgetting that last part.

Eddie had already made plans to visit him for the holidays, but since his accident happened a few days ago, he decided to take some time off work and head home a week earlier. Which, apparently, gave Wayne the idea that, instead of asking one of the many other possible candidates, Eddie could take up his role this year.

'Keeping up the Munson tradition.'

So, that's what got him into this mess. And although he knows it'll make his uncle happy, he dreads it. Hates it. Wishes it would already be over so he can forget all about it.

The community centre is packed with people. There are little stands where they sell handmade goods and cookies and hot drinks. And at the far end of the room, right in front of the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, he finds the area where half an hour from now, he'll be sitting in the massive wooden chair that reminds him a bit of the makeshift throne he used to sit in while playing his favourite nerd game with his friends in the school's basement.

His DM skills will come in handy today; he was always good at acting, doing voices, and slipping into different roles - so passing as Santa should be easy as pie.

Maybe it'll be half as bad as he thought. Although he's still not sure about handling the kids. Or their parents. Because he knows how impatient and annoying they can get when they have to wait in line for too long.

Two hours in, Eddie is already on the brink of a nervous breakdown. The kid on his lap has been crying for 5 minutes, not wanting to follow his embarrassed mother's plea to 'just sit still and look at the camera'. It's not the first time this happens, and he's pretty sure, not the last.

He already had to bite his tongue multiple times not to yell at someone for cutting the line, or at parents for trying to force their kids to sit on this big, scary man's lap when they clearly didn't want to. No 'nice picture for Grandma and Grandpa' is worth traumatising a child. So Eddie makes sure to always ask the kid in question whether they want to sit or just stand by his side.

When Sobbing Charly's mom has finally gotten a decent enough shot, Eddie takes a deep breath and turns to the next kid in line.

It's a girl, maybe 4 or 5, looking at him with big, curious eyes from where she’s half-hidden behind her dad.

"Robbie's a little shy, sorry. We can just come back later, don't wanna hold up the line," the man says apologetically, and when Eddie looks up at him, he instantly recognises the face.

Standing before him is Steve Harrington, someone he hasn't seen in years, who apparently has a daughter now, and- wow. Eddie needs a moment to process it all. Because he might've had a little crush on the guy back in high school. Okay maybe a massive one. And seeing him now, looking somehow even prettier than he had back then, makes Eddie’s heart flutter.

He shakes himself out of it and turns his attention back to the girl.

"Don't need to be shy Robbie, I know you've been very good this year. Just like your dad. Right, Steve?" Eddie winks at the man whose expression freezes when he seems to realise who is hidden underneath the costume.

"Dad! Santa knows your name!" the girl says in wonder and Eddie has to bite back a laugh.

"Duh, I told you Santa knows everything," Steve answers with a smile directed at Eddie and suddenly the room seems much brighter than before.

Robbie comes out of her hiding spot, still holding Steve's hand tight.

"Can my dad be in the photo with me?" she asks and her big, hazel eyes make Eddie's heart melt.

"Of course, he can."

Before Eddie realises what's happening, he's got both, Steve and his daughter in his lap, cheering at the camera and- Eddie will definitely need a drink after that, if he survives this.

Once they're done, Steve stands up quickly, mouthing 'Sorry' at him, smiling his pretty smile again, and Eddie feels hot all over. Must be the costume, he's sure.

He tries not to let his mind wander to other scenarios of Steve in his lap, turns to Robbie instead, acting as casual as possible when he asks her what her biggest wish for Christmas is.

She thinks about it for a moment, before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I wish my dad would find someone that makes him happy."

Oh.

Well. Eddie would gladly make that happen.

[fairyysoup]

it will come back

part one

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: You don’t go into the woods. You don’t talk to strangers. And you don’t, under any circumstances, approach a wolf. Unless one shows up bleeding at your door.

cw: dark themes, mature content, animal cruelty, animal death mention, gunshots, physical abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master, misogyny, suggestive themes, fairytale au, some kind of historical fantasy period, inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter, eventual smut (in later parts)

a/n: hiiiiiiii :) so remember when i said i'd stop posting fic on tumblr? well one mental breakdown later i decided that was literally making me miserable and ruining my hobby! so i'm back. it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me <3 this is a reupload

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me, Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me, Honey, don't feed me, I will come back.

There are things they tell you about the woods from the time you are born, weaning you on them just the same as you are weaned on milk. Don’t go into the woods on a full moon. Don’t talk to strange men. Likewise, if you see a strange man alone in the pines on the full moon, run and don’t look back. And don’t, for any reason, approach a wolf at any time. They’ll kill you before you turn the other cheek.

In your twenty-some-odd years, you have never seen a wolf. You’ve heard them howling, distantly, so deep in the forest that you don’t even feel the need to be frightened by it. They exist in there, somewhere, going about their business as wolves do.

Sometimes you hear about the wolves wandering into town. Old Mr. Thatch, from just over the creek, said his pigs were slaughtered in the night. He’ll have to spend a fortune to get a few more. Torben Plack from the end of Warder’s Row saw one drinking from the horse trough outside the inn last month. 

There are whispers of wolves when a baby is missing from its crib. There are whispers of murder in the night. There are accusations that some of the townsfolk themselves are wolves in disguise.

Nonsense, the lot of it. Or, that’s what you believe. That’s what you choose to think about it– even though you’ve been told time and again that a pretty girl doesn’t think, a pretty girl believes and does what she’s told. She doesn’t go into the woods. She does her chores and she says her prayers and she marries a boy with a healthy income and lives quietly, rearing children until she can’t anymore.

(You don’t believe that, either.)

You don’t have the luxury of making any other choices, though. You are a servant, a milkmaid in the employ of a rather cold Master– you have no time for philosophy or discerning what you do and don’t believe about the local folklore.

You milk the cow. You chop the firewood. You feed the chickens. You harvest the cabbage and you don’t complain. You sleep on your bed in your shack– or, servant’s quarters– behind the grand house and you don’t, under any circumstances, question the Master or his wife. You wash the bedsheets after he sloppily takes his wife to bed, and you try to hide your disgust. 

You usually do what you’re told. Usually. 

On a night when the moon hangs round and full in the sky, lighting the stretch of land beyond your small shack in a milky blue haze, you’re building a small fire in the fireplace when you hear it. The howling. It’s so much closer than you’ve ever heard it, almost as though the wolves are just beyond the treeline that backs up to your master’s land.

You pay it no mind. Normally, the wolves are on the hunt for something– small animals that titter through the woods, unassuming until it’s too late. The howling will be distant soon, and you’ll be able to sleep soundly while the rest of the town frets about the dangers of the wolf-men, locking their windows and bolstering their doors. 

Just as you thought, the howls drift away slowly. You snuggle down into the covers of your bed, and you barely flinch when Mr. Thatch fires off a pistol over the creek, ringing through the dead night louder than hell. These things mean little to you. You’re more interested in what the land of dreams holds for you tonight– it’s one of the only reprieves you get from your long days of work.

It isn’t until ten minutes later, when you are mere inches from sleep, that you hear a soft whining outside your cabin door. At first, you think it’s the wind. Then, when it gets louder, you wonder if you’re imagining it.

And when it turns into a soft howling, well. That’s not your imagination.

You wrap a woven blanket around your shoulders and leave the door open when you step out into the chilly night. You don’t have a candle– you could always knick one from the Mistress, but that might risk getting caught, and you don’t love that idea. So, you contend with the little amount of light that spills out of the open door from your small fireplace, and you squint into the dark toward the source of the sound.

It takes shape in the form of a wolf. A big one, covered in black fur and curled up beneath the gabled roof, as though attempting to make itself smaller. It shivers and whimpers miserably, tucking its paws close to its body. 

You shrink back in the doorway, drawing your blanket closer around your shoulders. The hum of crickets in the bushes and in the grass across the pasture covers the shakiness of your rapid breathing. You don’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly be expected to bother the Master this late at night– even if it is a wolf, the barn is shut up and the animals are safe. You’d probably be expected to just stay put in your little cabin and wait for it to go away on its own. Maybe in the morning the Master will find it and skin it for the Mistress’s bedquilt. 

The image makes you shudder. This poor thing– even if it is nearly as big as you, even if it’s a nasty predator in the eyes of everyone else– is clearly looking for some sort of reprieve. Just the same as you do at the end of the day. You can’t let it be skinned alive just for searching for safety.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, and you know the creature hears you, because it flinches badly. Almost as though it may bolt away in a panic. “No, no… don’t be frightened.” 

You lower yourself down towards the ground, tentatively inching forward as the creature turns its head to blink up at you. Water brims its dark eyes, sparkling in the low light from your open door. Streaks of tears flatten the fur on its snout; the wretched thing lets out a noise like a sob, hanging its head like it doesn’t have the energy to stand you off.

“I’ve never seen a wolf cry before,” you tell it quietly. You’ve never seen a wolf, period, but you don’t need to tell it that. You’re not sure that it can understand you, anyways, but you keep talking like it can. “Are you hurt?”

The wolf snorts, sneezes loudly, and then trembles. There’s a high pitched whining, a heart-shattering noise that cuts deep into your chest as the beast cowers away from you. The whine turns into a low growl when you move a bit closer, but it doesn’t sound like it really means business. More like it doesn’t know what to do with your closeness. 

“Hey,” you say again, more insistently. You inch your way forward, crouched low to the ground, holding your blanket around you with one hand as you reach the other out toward it. You’ve never tried to approach a wolf. You don’t know if it’s similar to trying to gain a domesticated dog’s trust– hold out your hand, let it catch your scent. Show it that you mean no harm, allow it to come to you. “I’m trying to help you, okay? Let me help.”

The wolf growls for a moment longer before finally relenting, and reaching its head forward to sniff curiously at your hand. You don’t know what you expect– perhaps that it would drop its head again, or back away cautiously. Instead, the wolf surprises you by pushing its head into your outstretched palm like a sad puppy.

“Oh,” you coo, stroking the wolf’s soft head as it trembles. Its ears twitch against your fingers, and it snuffles a few times, its body shaking with each, like an all-too-human fit of sobbing. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you inside.” 

Again, it’s a shot in the dark. You back slowly away from the creature, whose watery eyes blink up at you, and then you stand, and open the cabin door wider. The wolf doesn’t move, still continuing to shake with its uneven breathing.

You take a step into the door, and watch as the wolf slowly struggles up out of its cowering position. On all four legs, it seems to be favoring its right front leg, lifting its left paw limply upward. When you take another step back into the cabin, and it follows, it shudders a breath and limps badly on its left leg. 

“Good job, honey,” you tell the wolf gently as it tentatively follows you into the cabin. 

You don’t know whether to leave the door open or to shut it; you’re not sure if there’s any wisdom in shutting yourself in close quarters with a wild animal, but you also don’t want the Master to find it come morning. You suck your teeth and swing the door shut, quietly latching it and hoping the damned thing doesn’t suddenly decide it’s too hungry. 

You turn, and take two steps before dropping to your knees in front of the fireplace, where the most light hits the ground. You drop your blanket to the floor, and pat your lap as you look at the creature shivering a few feet away. “C’mere. Lay down.”

As far as you know, wolves don’t normally lay down and play lapdog for strange humans, but this one does. You wonder at it, remarkable in its size and beauty, as it flops down tiredly onto your floor and rests its head in your lap. Through your cotton chemise, the wolf’s chin is warmer than the heat of the fire.

You pet the wolf’s head again gently as you examine its left leg. It doesn’t seem to have any major wounds except for a spot of wetness on the side of it. When you lift it, the wolf in your lap whines loudly.

“I know, baby,” you coo at it, trying to pet its head as soothingly as you can while you look over the mangled leg and paw. Through the fur and dirt, you see a patch of pink skin matted with bright red, and your own hand comes away smeared with blood. There is a bad gash, enough to still be bleeding. 

You don’t want to jostle the animal now that it’s relatively comfortable, so you bend backwards and sideways to reach the cup of water on the shelf at your bedside. It’s what you have on hand to clean the wound– you suppose you could sneak into the grand house to steal some soap, but just the same as the candle, you’d rather not risk it. You take your time in pouring cool, clean water on the wolf’s wound, rubbing dirt and blood away from the gash. In your lap, the beast huffs softly in response.

“I don’t know what you’re doing out of the woods,” you tell it as you tenderly clean its wound, expecting that you’re only speaking to settle your own nerves, “but you ought not to come around here too often. The men here are bloodthirsty. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.” 

The wolf heaves a sigh. For what it’s worth, you take that as some sort of acknowledgement. 

“I can’t do much else for you besides this,” you continue softly. The wound is clean now, the fur gone wet enough that you can pull it aside and peer at the gash itself. It’s quite deep, straight, and slices from the middle of its leg upward at a diagonal. It continues to ooze even as you examine it, painting your fingers red. You tip a little more water onto it. 

You grab one corner of the blanket you’d used to wrap yourself, and rip a strip off along the grain. The light pink fabric looks almost comical when you wrap it around the wolf’s leg, tying it and tucking the tails in gently so that it won’t fall off too easily. You figure, eventually, the damn thing will come off while the wolf goes off on its merry way. You don’t delude yourself into thinking you’ve got a pet, now.

“I wish I could give you more,” you tell the beast, petting your hand down its mane, feeling the silken fur slide through your fingers like the plushest finery that you’ll never be able to enjoy for yourself. “But, I suppose, you can rest here tonight. If you promise to stay polite.”

The wolf doesn’t fuss when you slide a stiff pillow under its chin, and slip back under the covers of your bed. You gaze at it, curled up in a big black mass on your floor in front of the hearth, and you wonder why on earth a wild animal would be so well behaved. 

You wonder how a wolf is capable of crying.

You wake in the early morning light expecting to find a big black wolf sleeping in front of your hearth. Instead, when you rouse and rub the sleep from your eyes, you find that the wolf is gone.

In fact, there appears to have been no wolf at all. No blood on the floor, no black fur on the pillow that has inexplicably reappeared on the foot of your bed. Your water cup is full. And the door to your cabin is latched, just the same as it had been last night, after you let the wolf in.

By all appearances, nothing happened last night. There was no wolf. You half expect that you dreamed the entire thing. And you would continue to believe so– but, the end of your pink woven blanket is still torn, missing a strip from the end, frayed along the grain.

You slip from your bed and fling open the door to your shack, emerging into the cool morning air. You look down at the nook beside the door where the wolf had huddled in the dark, seeking shelter away from harm. There is nothing there to suggest that it had been there last night. 

But you know it to be true. You know it.

How could a wolf, a four legged creature with full use of only three of them, manage to unlatch your door, step out, and then relatch it from the other side? How could your water magically refill itself? It’s a mile to the well in the town square, and it’s not like the wolf could have done it. 

Broken from your thoughts, you hear a shriek of your name. You lift your head to see your Mistress, fully dressed, feeding the chickens. The daily chores have already begun.

“What are you doing outside in your underclothes?!” your Mistress yells, flinging grain down at the birds. “Go inside and dress yourself this instant, you wretch! And begin your morning duties!” 

You jump, darting back behind the door. You hadn’t thought anyone would be out yet. “Sorry, Mistress!” 

You rush to grab your stays from the end of your bed. You’ll pay for that one, you think. 

There are a million reasons why you prefer doing your chores out of the house. 

One, the Mistress isn’t around to rag on you over every little thing. Two, you don’t have to be watching over your shoulder to make sure you aren’t in the Master’s way. And three, you can take all the time you want to do other things as well, as long as you get done before dinner has to be served. 

Your skirt is filthy, but it’s a beautiful day, and the creek that separates your Master’s land from Mr. Thatch’s land is babbling quite a bit, and it makes doing the washing up much easier than it otherwise would be. Which you’re happy about, since your arm is so badly welted you can barely curl your fingers. 

You sniffle and lift your apron to wipe your nose. Then you wring out the Mistress’s petticoat– of which there are far too many for one woman to reasonably have– you whine at the strain on your injured hand, and you move to the basket of other soiled clothes. You think about blowing your nose in the Master’s linen shirt, and you’re about two seconds from doing it, too, when you hear a splash nearby. 

“Shit,” says a man’s voice. There are a couple more splashes around the bend, and then yelps, and then there’s one enormous splash, and a laugh. 

“Hello?” you call, trying to peer around the bank of overgrowth beside you. Then, there’s a cacophonous amount of splashing, which makes you screw up your face, and a man emerges from around the bank of greenery.

You pause, holding your Master’s laundry in your hands over the water like you’re wondering whether to dip it in or not. Really, you’re just shocked to see a strange man on your Master’s property at all. He’s out of breath, rosy cheeked and soaking wet from the chest down.

“Um,” is all you can say.

“Hello there,” the man says with a rakish grin that flashes sharp teeth at you. You blink a few times, just to make sure he’s really there. And when you do satisfy yourself with the fact that, yes, he’s very real, you then have to acclimate yourself to the idea that he’s also absolutely beautiful.

His very pretty face is framed by long, dark hair, and his eyes are strikingly dark. There’s something on his skin peeking out of the open collar of his burgundy blouse, but to look at that from this distance means to look at the way his shirt clings to his body, and then his trousers, and if you weren’t already struck dumb, now you are.

“How– how are you– um.” You wave your hands around, gesturing to the general area around you. “Whatareyoudoinghere?” 

“I think I was going for a swim, of sorts,” the man laughs, holding one arm out a bit to indicate his damp appearance. 

“Who are you?”

“Now, there’s a question for the ages.” The man tromps forward through the water, splashing along gracelessly and with exaggerated steps, like he’s trying to make you laugh. “Generally speaking, no one really cares who I am, just what I want.” 

“Okay,” you snap, irritated by the man’s jovial attitude and his need to speak in riddles. “What do you want? Why are you on this land? What business do you have here, and with whom?” 

“Whoa, hey–” the man holds up his hands, and grimaces like it’s painful to do so. Then he recovers with a flashy smile. “I don’t mean you any harm, princess. I have no business anywhere, I was just following the creek and seeing where it leads. Guess the time got away from me.”

“I’m not a princess,” you grumble back at him.

He tilts his head, his smile lingering as he looks at you. “Just an expression, no need to be nasty.”

You scowl down at your master’s clothes, and then plunge them into the water like they personally offended you. “Following the creek from where?” He points his thumb over his shoulder, towards the trees. “You came from the woods?”

“Thereabouts.” 

You squint up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows dramatically and takes another step towards you. “And may I ask who you are? Or shall I just call you ‘My Lovely Lady of the Creek,’ for time immemorial?”

You tell him your name flatly, and turn your face away as he gets closer, suddenly very invested in getting sweat stains out of your Master’s linen blouse using a cake of lye soap. “You should know not to go into those woods alone. There’s wolves.” 

 “Oh, I think I can handle myself in the woods, sweetheart.” Eddie smirks down at you. “Anyways, who wants to be in the trees on a day like this?” 

You grunt. You don’t think the man will be going away anytime soon, which is bad news for you, because the closer he gets, the more inclined you are to look at him. Then, you’re more inclined to talk, and you’ve already been punished once today. You don’t think you could handle another.

The man, Eddie, sits himself down on a large rock jutting out of the water next to you. He watches you for a moment, scrubbing with one hand at the cloth on the board in the water, and then he points down at your arm. His billowing sleeve flashes red in your peripheral vision, along with the silver of the rings on his hand.

“What happened here?” he asks softly, his voice losing its humorous tone.

You look down at the welted skin. It stings, but the cold water numbs the pain just a bit. Now that he’s brought your attention back to it, your eyes prick with tears again, and you sniff. “My Mistress caught me outdoors in my chemise.”

“She should count herself lucky. It’s a sight to behold.” 

“What?” You blink up at him. From this angle, him looming over you on a boulder, the sun rings his head in gold like a halo. “How would you know?” 

“I’m… supposing.” Eddie bites his lip, staring off to the side for a moment, as if suddenly at a loss for the right words to say. “You’re a very… beautiful girl. I can only imagine.” 

“That’s forward of you.” 

“Besides, it doesn’t answer my question,” he rushes out. He scowls back down at your arm. “What did that to you?” 

You heave a sigh. “Well, the Mistress told my Master. And the Master is very heavy handed with a cane.” A small sob constricts your throat for a moment, tears pricking your eyes again so badly that you have to stop working and close them. Your sinuses burn from the effort of holding it in.

“You were beaten because you went outside without a petticoat?” Eddie remarks incredulously, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, I… I was also late to start my chores,” you admit in a wobbly voice. “So I suppose I got off easier than most would…” 

“It’s cruel. I’d love to see how he would take it, if the tables were turned.” Eddie’s dark eyes flash dangerously when you look up at him; there’s something in the set of his jaw and the steely expression on his face that makes you think of the growling wolf last night. After a moment, he softens towards you again. “Why were you late to your chores?”

“I…” you trail off. You think about telling him about the wolf, but you wonder if he’s the kind of person who will go into town and yell about the wolves trying to steal women in the night, and you could do without the embarrassment. “I had a nightmare. Slept too late.”

Eddie clicks his tongue and rocks backward a bit. “A nightmare,” he repeats, considering the word like it’s a part of life’s philosophy. “What about?”

You don’t respond for a few moments. You’ve moved on to washing a pillowcase now, which is significantly less soiled than your Master’s blouse. “Why do you care?”

“I care because I hate to see My Lovely Lady of the Creek in distress. Even if she is completely vexed by the sight of me,” He says lightly, as you tilt your head down to hide the way your cheeks burn. He reaches up his right hand and produces a silver coin from behind your ear. You stare at it in puzzlement as he hands it to you. “What was your nightmare about?”

You hesitate just a moment before taking the silver coin. “Is this bribery?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie announces with a wry smile. “For your thoughts.”

You sigh. You could use the coin, you’ll admit. Maybe you could buy yourself a new robe, or a loaf of bread from the baker, or any other of the myriad things you’re in want of. 

You tuck the coin down the front of your bodice, where it slides down and gets stuck between your ribcage and your chemise. Eddie’s eyes follow the path that it takes between your breasts with a hungry glint in them. 

“There was a wolf,” you tell him quietly, going back to your work. “It came to my door bleeding. I brought it inside and nursed it. But when I woke, there wasn’t a wolf. It was just a nightmare.”

“Oh,” Eddie hums amusedly. “I wouldn’t call that a nightmare. I’d rather call it a dream.”

“A dream?” you echo with a scoff. 

“Yes. A lovely dream, with a heroine and a lonely beast in need of kindness.” He leans towards you, his hands on his knees. “But, you know what they say about wild things.”

You huff with indignance, but humor him, because you’re curious in spite of yourself. “I don’t know. What do they say?”

“You shouldn’t show them kindness,” he whispers, so close to your ear that you can feel his breath on your neck. “They’ll keep coming back for more.”

You startle, standing up with a noisy splash of water as you yank the last of the laundry from the creek. There’s a flush under your bodice that you don’t like, sticking to the coin that’s going hot against your skin as you think about it even being there. That it was produced by his hand. The more you think about it, the more you imagine it as an extension of his body, touching you just beneath your breast. 

Eddie snickers to himself as you hurriedly, shakily, smack the last piece of laundry into the basket with the rest, and pick up the washboard from the water. With a frustrated huff, you stand and rest the basket of laundry on your hip. You gaze out across the creek, and then away towards the trees, and finally, when you’re sure you can form words, you turn back to him. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Munson,” you say stiffly, so that you don’t trip over your own tongue. It comes out icily as a result, and you turn away to hide the way that you blush.

“Until we meet again.” Eddie presses his lips together, as though he’s stifling a laugh. Then he says, in a slightly bossy tone, “Take care of that arm for me, princess. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.”

You whirl around to ask him to repeat that– what the hell did you just say?– but when you do, the man is already gone. Along with any trace of his presence by the creekside. 

Except, the coin he bought your dream with still grows warm against the heat of your skin, under your bodice. 

[hunybody]

buck: oh man i love good luck babe by chappell roan! we have to shut this off before eddie gets here though

los angeles gay: hey man you don’t have to do that. if he isn’t being 100% supportive then that’s something he needs to work through. you shouldn’t hide parts of yourself just to make him more comfortable

buck, who is soul tied to eddie and therefore knows that eddie:

1) was forced at 18 to marry the girl he lost his virginity to by a family who has never supported him because she got pregnant and his whole family was

2) devout catholics who lived in texas so then, out of options, eddie

3) fell victim to the military industrial complex as many teens of color with limited options do and then went on a traumatic tour and struggled for years with ptsd after coming home and

4) has panic attacks so bad he goes to the hospital when he tries to date women but can’t admit he’s gay to himself because he feels like he doesn’t deserve ease or happiness and has

5) already been present for 2 breakdowns wherein eddie was a danger to himself and/or others

buck: man i am fucking serious we’ve got to turn this shit off 😐

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin: Episode 1 Breakdown

(Episode 2) (Episode 3) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

Thank you Lauren LeFranc, Mike Marino, Colin Farrell and Matt Reeves, we owe you the world for this, good God. It's finally here everyone and I've decided I'm gonna give each episode it's own post/breakdown of thoughts, because hahaha holy shit you guys this is beyond what I even dreamed of, and we're gonna be covering this for a while I think. I've worked out enough madness about this out of my system by talking with friends and I can't seem to be able to work on anything else till I get this done, so let's do it.

Bottom line: This isn't even just a must-watch if you like the Penguin or if you like The Batman, this is something I'd recommend to just about anyone in a heartbeat, something I can point to when people ask "why do you like The Penguin so much" and, instead of the elaborate nerd ramble that usually turns them off, I can just tell them to watch this. A friend of mine (who already loves Batman and digs the Penguin quite a bit) even told me as much, that he's starting to get why I love the character so much, and truly, is there a better feeling than this? Well, there is, and it's watching the show. Let's dig into this first episode:

Right upfront I'm gonna say that this doesn't really seem to be the Sopranos rip-off that people have been calling it before release, although there are definitely Sopranos comparisons to make here. I've spent the past months finally watching The Sopranos in order to get the comparison and definitely want to talk about those comparisons after I finish it (and this show ends). This thing aims to stand on it's own legs as a crime show and it's smashing out of the gate with an extremely promising first episode.

So this just casually opens with the reveal that all along, there was a second rich Gotham the whole time that was completely unaffected by everything we saw in the movie, already throwing a great twist on the events of that movie, and further reinforcing how fucking full of shit The Riddler was. All we saw Batman and the others deal with in the movie was just affecting the poorer parts of the city. All Eddie did was drown rats, and make life worse for the people already in the bottom, while never even getting close to targeting the systemic rot that ruined his life. He retains ideological worshippers in subways obsessed with the corruption of the city without doing anything to actually improve it, and because of him, the streets of Gotham are waterlogged shitholes while the rich Falcone suburbs are doing just fine, peachy even.

I said a while back that, in spite of having about 6 scenes/10 minutes of Penguin runtime, The Batman managed to squeeze impeccably controlled Penguin Trademark Scenes, and this show opens with the last one they didn't get to then: Penguin killing someone for making fun of him. In the movie, he tries doing that with Falcone and is beaten to the punch, so here he gets to actually do it to disastrous consequences.

Fucking adore that the inciting incident of the show is based on the fallout of Oswald killing someone for making fun of him. He pours his heart about the dream he lives his life for, his new boss makes fun of him for being an embarassment to their profession and then he does the most typical Penguin thing by killing him for it and laughing afterwards. And then he realizes how badly he fucked up, and then we get a fucking perfect titledrop with his musical theme, the exact moment we finish The Batman and enter The Penguin.

God it is so fucking cool how the make-up/lighting, the scar across his face, makes it look like he's got a genuine beak from certain angles, how they're able to achieve that effect without giving him a more literal beak for a nose. Everytime they talk about the character, Reeves and Farrell always emphasize how integral the make-up was to them figuring out what to do with Oz, how little they knew what to make of his six scenes until Marino created their monster and suddenly everything fell into place. Mike Marino fully deserves co-credit for the creation of Oz.

Pretty amusing that Victor, as designed to be Penguin's Robin, has exactly the same origin as Jason Todd, a poor street kid trying to steal the hubcaps off the Penguinmobile (I'm sure this bodes very well for his odds at survival), as is the way in which Oz goes on about his recruitment. He press-gangs this kid at gunpoint to help him bury a body arguing with himself and eventually the kid why shouldn't he just kill him to be safe, while trying to impress the kid with his car and air freshener and later that bullshit about "What, you think I hire any schmuck off the street?". From the tile drop onwards, he's doing everything on the fly while also spinning long-term plans set in motion as soon as he's on screen, he's taking this kid in out of sympathy and because he enjoys a power dynamic over someone weaker than him and because he very much needs someone to help him get stuff done. I'm extremely interested in exploring Penguin having a mentorship dynamic and I'm beyond curious as to what happens with Victor from this point onwards, but that poor kid is in for a terrible fucking time.

Found it very funny how much he half-asses the murder threat to Victor. Like it's his first time actually doing it and he's trying to be serious, but not too scary because he's already seeing himself in the poor kid with a stutter and wants the kid to think he's also a cool guy like he wants everyone to think he's a cool guy. I also think having Victor as the POV helps to sell moments like these, because it's still terrifying to him. Even as we follow their stories, these power players of Gotham are still big scary monsters to people caught in the dregs and Victor helps to reinforce that.

I enjoy Oz being friends with sex workers and drag queens off the street as much as I enjoy Oz being depicted as the kind of guy who deludes himself into thinking the prostitute he's with actually likes him, Lauren and Farrell launched into a bit about in on the podcast and I'm curious to see what's going on with him and Eve here.

Lots of perfect funny little character moments across the whole thing. Oz insulted by the idea of taking extra pickles off a poor kid's dirty mouth, but with zero hesitation whatsoever for picking jewelry off his boss' corpse. Dude is governed by principles even as he actively has to break them to survive.

"Technically it's plum." "He is the - or was the - new kingpin", "He's got nurse-like qualities." The show is not overtly trying to get you to find Penguin likeable as much as it wants you to find him engaging - making you think he's likeable is Colin Farrell's job and he's masterful at it, definitely a lot more matured within the character compared to the movie.

If there's anything in particular I'm thankful for regarding Gotham (well okay Gotham led directly to Telltale Penguin which was the basis for this one, so really I do have a lot more to be thankful with Gotham), it's the decision to give him a legit waddle via the broken foot, but the way they incorporate it here with the club foot does so much for him, so much as a modern day reinvention of The Penguin. Adds so much to why he's never been a serious candidate for mob leadership, why he kinda had to spend all his time in the Lounge, why he actually needs someone to help him run affairs, why he has such a gaping ego wound and is so murderously angry at people making fun of him / calling him a goddamn penguin, adds so much validation and so much darkness and nuance to Oswald's overwhelming anger and bitterness over how the world treats him (and so much power should he opt to reclaim it, in turn). It's the kind of thing that frankly feels like it should have always been part of the character, like what all the previous versions were itching closer to or trying to get at. Of course this is a guy gets called a penguin and he hates it badly enough to murder people over it, of course.

This gets to really highlight how differently Oz acts depending on who he's with. Traditionally, one of my favorite things about The Penguin, and one of the things that puts him above the other villains, is that, due to his position, he has to interact with a lot more people than the other Bat-villains. He has to manage a lot more relationships and dynamics, he has to play peacekeeper and puppetmaster. he's the only one in the United Underworld who's regularly interacting with and recruiting other villains to do business with. He's the guy who you pin stuff on like the Gangland Guardians, Team Penguin, doing betting pools with the Rogues taking cover in his Lounge while Joker War is happening, having to rig games to keep good standing with Maxie Zeus and Frenchy Blake in Batman Audio Adventures, and so on. So I greatly enjoy this beat here of him talking about how makes himself smaller before the Falcones, and that moment of him adjusting his outfit and practicing expressions in the mirror before meeting with them. How he contorts himself is present in all of his relationships, and retroactively adds to the way he carries himself in The Batman.

It seems that Oz is functionally regarded as the Paulie Walnuts of the Falcones: useful muscle, loyal for the most part and amusing to keep around, but largely an unstable self-serving dumb asskisser kept where he belongs, a liability if not kept on a short leash. I think the show does a good job of highlighting all the reasons why Oz has never been seriously regarded as a viable option for a boss, even putting aside his disability. He is a fundamentally embarassing person for these serious respectable criminals to be around and of course, the joke is ultimately on them..

Of course, there is only two people in the show who actually know what he's capable of, Francis Cobb and Sofia Falcone, said to be the central relationships defining the show moving forward. Both of them also a defining commonality with Oswald, being people who are looked down on and dehumanized, and characters who are underestimated until it's time to bear their fangs.

Extremely invested in where they're going with Sofia Falcone, Cristine Milioti's been killing it, and will in fact not stop killing it. What a perfect villain for Penguin they've set up with her, someone who has his Kryptonite: she does not underestimate him. Although we know in advance that Oz is going to live and be in the next movie, the question here isn't even so much who's going to win the gang war, and rather how much damage these two freaks will do to the city until Batman gets back. In many ways, Sofia represents the shape of things to come just as much as he does.

She is this embodiment of both the pristine unfathomable wealth and privilege and power that he both detests and strives for, as well as this brutal new breed of madness and violence attacking the streets that he has to survive against and make deals with (and is himself very much a part of, however he denies it). She is Falcone's legacy in every way that matters, both a Kingpin of Gotham whose existence creates the oppressive conditions under which a Batman or a Riddler are created, as well as the Arkham Rogue, the larger-than-life sadist with a tragic origin and a signature torture-murder method and an embarassing name for the papers.

Even the fact that she is The Hangman, and Carmine was defined around his penchant for brutally strangling women - regardless of whether or not she did the crimes that got her in Arkham, she's become this larger-than-life themed expression of a violent obsession in a way that sets her up as every bit the Batman villain that The Penguin is. The two champions of the two Gothams, duking it out in this new world The Batman and The Riddler made, The Penguin vs The Hangman.

I am so glad Lauren LeFranc made the call for binning Alberto in the first five minutes so the rest of the show can focus on Sofia and make a real character out of her in a way nobody's ever really done before, every step of the way so far LeFranc has been perfectly on the ball about where to take these characters and their conflict. And speaking of those,

I feel very confident in saying that this is the first time anyone's ever really had something worth doing with Oswald's mother as a character in her own right and not just a source of anguish for Penguin (Gotham was almost onto something with Gertrude, but not nearly enough). When it comes to Penguin origin stories, my favorite's always been the Pre-Crisis one, where he's poor and bullied but happy with his mom and birds until she dies and the government seizes everything he has, which doesn't necessarily involve her much. But here? Francine Cobb is a real character in what little time we get to know her, and what a character she is. We quickly understand the role she's playing in Oz's life, not just as his mom and person he loves and strives to protect, but the person who's sculpting him into the man he's going to become.

She is vulnerable and she does need meds and she's not quite all there, and Penguin's need to care for her is visible in other actions of his. But then they turn it around by showing how strong and demanding she is, how she is fiercely ambitious and pushing him to be something he would otherwise not be, how much she loves him and sees greatness in him. She knows he's a people pleaser, she knows how to push his buttons, and she wants him to be more, so of course he's going to be more, because he lives to please his mom.

Related to this is this absolute bullseye of a summation of The Penguin, that Lauren LeFranc delivered in the podcast: "Perhaps his greatest fear is that love is transactional. And that yet, everything he does, every decision he makes, is as if that's true. As if "love is transactional" is a truth he abides by". Oswald's conception of power is being loved and revered like Rex Calabrese, and the love he wants most in all the world is the one from his mother. So in turn this, and all extensions of it, drive him to greater and darker lengths.

He doesn't have that ambition quite down yet, it's his mom that does. She who's pushing him to take over the city and not just be a guy scraping by for survival. He's smart and ambitious and extremely good at slipping out of trouble, but she's pushing him to be the guy who will be taking the city by the horns because that's what he has to be for their sake. Her legacy to her son is nurturing him having that dog in him that will make him the supervillain who picks fights with Vengeance. She is the force that's turning Oswald into The Goddamn Penguin and I can't wait to see how she's developed.

Of course he reprimands Victor in that scene for lacking ambition, who do you think he gets it from?

Really love what they've done with Sal Maroni in here so far. I like adaptations that take these throwaway Batman backstory gangsters and make something out of them, in this case, with Clancy Brown lending his power and voice and reputation as The Grand Boss of Villainy to play the last Respectable Gangster of Gotham, this intimidating principled old tiger who's inversely proportional to how much of a petty and scummy piece of shit Carmine Falcone was. Extremely a guy I'd want to see playing a hand in the creation of Two-Face. Just as crucial is the fact that he is the one who gets the most effortlessly outplayed by Oz here, because this is The Penguin Show: no room for traditional or respectable gangsters anymore, their purpose is to be crapped all over by our wacko birdman.

There's a lot about this that re-contextualizes his behavior in The Batman and the one I'm gonna point out is: even though he can't be sure his plan didn't completely go to shit, he is still keeping his wits and not being terribly scared about being beaten up and tortured and staring down the scariest Falcone with a gun shoved in his throat. But he craps his pants at the sight of the Batmobile. He gets pain, he gets indignity, but he doesn't get Vengeance, what kind of sick freak would come up with the stuff that guy does. A gun in his mouth and Falcone torture is just Tuesday, but a car that wants to eat his soul is some psycho shit he's just not ready to deal with.

It is the delicious tasty fucking irony that Oswald thinks Vengeance is this weird freak who doesn't play or bend to any rules and is here to fuck up everything, just like the madman who flooded the city, and thinks of himself in turn as a justifiable guy standing for the respectable old-fashioned empathetic way of doing things, instead of the exact same thing that Riddler and Batman are. Only Sofia gets what he really is, the same thing as her, and that's why she is the arch-enemy / the biggest thing he's gotta defeat in life for now.

God, how fucking PERFECT it is that he gets caught and tortured because he, after stabbing out a man's eye and causing him to get run over by a schoolbus, stops to wave at the kids in that schoolbus while covered in blood. Just the Rex Calabrese of it all, the self-image, this guy who's both a mean nasty son of a bitch and also a real bleeding heart softie and in ways that ruin his life and allow him to slip and wriggle his way out of shit he has no right to, as demonstrated by the finale.

Thinking about Sofia chastizing Oz saying he thinks she is a toy to play with, while rattling off the ways in which she owns him and everything he has, all the ridiculous little accessories her daddy let him play him, and he in turn is a ridiculous little accessory for the family she is twisting until it breaks. Perfect fucking villain for him. Can't wait to see how badly these two are gonna burn Gotham.

I knew deep in my heart that all I wanted out of a Penguin show, the thing that I simply needed to have in it, was Penguin pulling a heist set-up in advance, and it fucking delivered. He doesn't even complain at Victor for being late, because if anything, getting captured and tortured while the car crashed was even better for him. No, he complains at Victor for not being sufficiently gruesome with the body. See, unlike other cowardly anti-hero reinventions of Bat-villains, the show never wants you to forget that Oz is a weird freak and a disgusting piece of shit, even if he is a very likeable and even aspirational one. Only by the most random stroke of fate it wasn't Victor that he fed to the wolves at that moment, that he sees himself in the kid isn't exactly ensuring that he's gonna make out of this in one piece.

Mr. Vengeance gets Nirvana, and Mr. Boniface gets Dolly Parton, perfect credits.

In conclusion: Out of everything they could have done following the thunderous success of The Batman and it's ensuing influence over the DCU, out of all the offers Reeves must have gotten to helm their new universe after delivering a megahit reinvention of their breadwinner blockbuster character, Matt Reeves went "Nah, I listened to my crew, and what we really want to do is 8 hours of television about the waddling freak who's in my movie for 10 minutes", and he and his crew deserve the world for that. I dreamed as a kid of getting to make a big Penguin story or show, a wild impossible idea that would never actually happen, and now it's here and it's better than anything I'd ever imagined.

I'm fit to burst with joy and riding a high of no longer having to hunt for scraps and washing away decades of put-downs for the character and enjoying a Penguin renaissance like one I never imagined happening. I am extremely not an unbiased reviewer here, this show rules and I've waited for it since I was a kid and it's here, drink it the fuck in cause it's only the beginning.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Y’all are the best. Seriously. I love y’all. One quick note: if y’all reblog, please include the tag “#if I should stay” (mind the capital i) so people can find the rest of the parts! Thanks so much!!! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Eddie does end up following Robin because he does not, in fact, have a death wish.

Even if, apparently, he dies in the future. Go figure.

She instructs him to grab his guitar. “Why in the fuck,” he starts, then reconsiders when Robin whips around to stare at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”

Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Not as much as they should.”

She stashes her bike in the back of his van and directs him to the Harrington residence, where Steve’s waiting, arms crossed, wondering smile on his face. “Miracle worker,” he calls, and Robin laughs as she grabs her bike from the back.

“Hate to break it to ya, Dingus, but you’re just not scary.”

“I’m plenty scary. I’ve got a nail bat.”

“Right, because that would beat Nance’s sawed-off in a fight.”

“Hey, it could! You never know! They’ve got different ranges!”

Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, like she’s asking if he can believe it, which. No. No he can’t.

“Sorry,” he says, regretting everything when they both look at him. “What the actual fuck is happening?”

“Come inside,” Steve says, suddenly all business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” His eyes find Robin’s. “One of ‘em took Barb last night.”

“Fuck,” Robin whispers.

“Yup. Will’s been missing for two days. Maybe, if we get down there soon enough…”

“Let’s hope so. Which one of the rugrats found El?”

“I think they all did? But Mike’s the one who took her in.” He shakes his head, mouth a grim line. “I saw Dustin today. They’re kids, Robs.”

“So are we,” she reminds him, heaving a tired-sounding sigh. “A buncha kids fighting real-life monsters.”

“Monsters?” Eddie parrots.

Somehow they end up inside while Steve goes to pick up the Party. Who the party is, Eddie doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know why he’s in Steve’s Harrington’s house with someone who isn’t Steve Harrington.

“Who’s the Party?” He asks Robin. “And why am I here again? If I die, doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t be here? Should be somewhere far, far away instead?”

“The Party’s a group of kids Steve babysits. They’re the first ones to go through this whole mess. And admittedly, you’re here partially because you can help, and partially for selfish reasons.” She offers him a lopsided grin. “Believe it or not, watching you die was kinda traumatic.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “And you and Steve? How do you know each other? He and Nancy Wheeler are the talk of the town, and if he’s stepping out-”

“He wouldn’t,” she says harshly. “Ever.” She takes a breath. “Two years from now, or a year ago, he and I work together in a mall. Long story short, we get captured and tortured by Russians. High on truth serum, I tell him I’m a lesbian in the bathroom, we help take down the big bad, and boom. Instant platonic soulmates.”

Eddie gapes at her. “What the fuck.”

“Just about,” she nods. “Oh, and the kids love D&D, so you’ll have plenty to talk about. They’re little shits but they’re also kinda great once you get to know them.”

Eddie stares at her. The front door opens, and Steve walks in, followed by a gaggle of preteens and Nancy Wheeler.

“Robs,” Steve says, not slowing his stride as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Bathroom. Now.”

Robin grimaces. “Breakdown time,” she murmurs to Eddie, then follows Steve, leaving everyone else staring at each other.

“So,” Eddie says. “I heard you like D&D?”

A dark-haired kid who looks suspiciously like Nancy narrows his eyes. “You play?”

“Play!” Eddie repeats. “I don’t just play, my young friend, I am the greatest Dungeon Master this side of the Mississippi.”

A curly-haired kid begins to grin. “I think we should put that to the test.”

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[the-nosy-neighbor]

Toys in the Catalog

I had mentioned Eddie looking at his number and being "stretched thin" so I thought I'd put together all of the catalog images and see if the numbers mean anything to me.

Starting here. Poppy looks dead eyed in this image, while the others have very happy faces. You can't say it is the toy, necessarily, since the others look happy. She seems to have a paper tail and paper feathers on her head. Her feet are super cute.

If you haven't seen one of these, this is how it works. More of a science toy than anything. This one is a bit scarier looking.

Poppy is the same price as Eddie, while the others are a bit higher. I can envision how these toys work by the design. Super cool designs.

We've looked at this a couple of times. Eddie appears to be checking out his price. Wally and Frank pillows are quite a bit more expensive than the other toys. Is this framing them as the most popular? They are more than an entire jack-in-the-box. Barnaby I have mentioned before, because it is another bisected Barn. I think we will see him in pieces before this is over.

This is framed as gifts for your home, like Wally was looking at for Home. The cuckoo clock here is home, and is featured prominently in Eddie's breakdown in Commercials. As we watch Eddie unravel, we see an above view of the clock (and I haven't found anything else in that image, not for a lack of trying) as well as a straight on view, which shows the clock moving, but not smoothly or in time. It starts and stops, pauses longer than you think it should. This says that Wally pops out instead of a cuckoo, though Poppy might have been more traditional. We don't get to see Wally come out of the clock.

The clock reads 3:30. I don't see anything that would designate day or night. This is quite a bit more than most things, because it's a complex clock.

Then we have a tea set, which seems to be the big image it is giving us about Poppy. Doilies and tea. Over and over. We will have to remember. Wally does tap his tea cup at Poppy's in a hidden video. Still trying to figure it out, but they keep showing it to us.

Finally, a tree skirt. It's expensive, but those things always are. I love the design, and all the neighbors. We see this design in a video or still somewhere else, maybe? I will keep an eye out. This features all the neighbors as gingerbread men as well as has cut outs of their symbols. I think it is odd that Home is by Eddie and not Wally, but maybe they are mixing it up.

Final page, with records. On the holiday records: one for $5.89 or all for $15.89. There are five records below on this page and it says "continued on next page," so that is not all. All of the records that we have seen so far are here. A was in the exhibit, as well as the first ad with the missing item. We saw B in the exhibit, and it was on the record player on the Merchandise page; it plays the Alice in Wonderland bit. C is Halloween, D was some of the earliest merch, and E is mentioned, but we are told that we have part of the audio, not the full record. Generally, when it says that, we shouldn't trust it. Something to consider.

Presumably, there are more records. The records are Marlo.

The price on these seem pretty standard and in line with the rest of the catalog. The single and Painting with Wally are cheaper, we assume because it is a shorter album. On the pricing generally, we are seeing a lot of ".89" but I assume this is for the same reason things are priced at the upper end, to be smaller than a dollar increase while practically being at the next dollar amount. Eddie and Poppy's toys are the only ones at $1.89. Given that they are both bullied characters, I wouldn't be surprised if there was some kind of connection there.

One thing I didn't mention, is that Marlo is listed on this page, but it isn't elsewhere. I think I mentioned during a post on "Commercials" that there is a different company for those toys. Pretty sure Marlo did these records and the phones, at least. The other company is named "The You-Won't-Believe-It Company." They did the Wally Ball And Cup. They have other items in the video, I think. I noticed and wondered if there was something going on there, because we have only seen Marlo so far.

[whenmemorydies]

The legerdemain of racism: demands for season 4 of The Bear

Alright folks, this one has been sitting on my chest like a fucking elephant for the last week. It's a long one (when are they not, I'm sorry lol), so if you'd give me the grace of your time and eyeballs, lets have a cup of tea and do this.

Legerdemain: the magic trick

In 3x07 Legacy, we're introduced to the concept of legerdemain (French for 'sleight of hand') in the form of notes and drawings, etched into one of Carmy's notebooks:

Other possible definitions of legerdemain include:

'the skilful hiding of the truth in order to trick people';

'skilful tricks done as part of a performance'; and

'cunning, deception or trickery.'

There have been important discussions on this app about the concept of legerdemain in The Bear, and how Storer, Calo and co. appear to have peppered season 3 of the show with references to their own use of the concept in breaking the fourth wall, to comment on filmmaking, on cooking, magic, and perhaps, using the legerdemain of season 3 as a distraction while they take a dish their industry further in season 4.

Have a look at the below metas for some helpful background to what I'm talking about here.

Fourth Wall/Magic Trick Metas for The Bear:

@brokenwinebox's Fourth Wall (being broken)

@brokenwinebox's The New Paradigm

@thoughtfulchaos773's meta on the fourth wall

@currymanganese's Richie's journey is not over (on Richie being the author avatar for creator Chris Storer

@currymanganese's masterful consolidation of fourth wall analysis and their speculative analysis on the role of the Faks

@ago0112's analysis of the blurring of fact and fiction during the Ever funeral service

My post Richie and the viewer.

See also this beautiful reblog thread discussing how the creative decisions involved in season 3 have elicited sympathetic responses in the audience that mimic the emotions of the characters on The Bear, possibly contributing to a division in how this season has been received generally. Shout out to @moodyeucalyptus, @vacationship and @greekyogurttragedy for this generous and thoughtful discussion. And this insightful breakdown on the treatment of characters of colour this season between @hwere and @mxmajor + this discussion on the sidelining of Black grief this season with @melfinawins , @suellenalmeida and @moodyeucalyptus.

An ache: POC on The Bear

After I finished my first watch of season 3 (which was an ill-advised binge while recovering from the flu), I felt like I had sat through a year's worth of television. This was purely for the fact that I was emotionally SPENT by the end of it (still didn't stop me from wanting to rewatch the entire thing immediately - I didn't, thank god. Shout out to my nervous system for threatening a revolt and stopping me). Anyway this is to say, I had to really stretch my memory to recall a lot of the content in this season's early episodes. One that stood out though was the beginning of 3x02 Next.

3x02 begins (hilariously) with Syd and Papa Adamu fighting for bathroom time and then Syd leaving the apartment for work. As Syd makes her way to work, we hear Eddie Vedder's cover of "Save It For Later" playing, which @brokenwinebox has referred to in the context of the fourth wall.

We then leave Syd but get a tour of early morning Chicago with documentary-style footage of an array of workers beginning their daily grinds, preparing the city for its day. These workers are diverse in lots of ways including cultural background and employment, running the gamut from food service, hospitality, newspapers (shout out to the Chicago Tribune which will give The Bear its first review in 3x10 Forever), sports, etc.

What is striking about this beautiful opening to 3x02 are the lyrics of "Save It For Later" that are playing as we see all these hardworking people pass by on our screens:

We hear Eddie Vedder sing, "run away, run away and let me down" over and over while diverse, working class folks wave at us, the viewers. And if I'm being honest, in relation to people of colour and Black folks being represented on this show, this is a good chunk of what season 3 ended up feeling like for me (and undoubtedly, for a lot of other BIPOC viewers too): racialised people waving, hailing the creators behind this show, and screaming DON'T LET US DOWN, DON'T RUN AWAY FROM US. WHY THE FUCK SHOULD WE SUFFER LIKE THIS?

And then we get the remainder of 3x02, which myself and others have described as having two too many Faks and one too many unnecessary conversations about Claire in lieu of the attention that should have been paid to Marcus and the loss of his mother. Where the fuck was Chester, who looked after Mrs Brooks when Marcus was in Copenhagen? I needed to see their sweet friendship in that episode and was actually blown away when we got none of it.

And things got progressively worse from there.

In this pre-season 3 meta on The Bear, I spoke about how part of the tragedy of Carmy's fridge spiral was the (white) saviourism of his speech to Tina ("I failed you guys") which rubbed me all sorts of wrong ways given that the largely POC crew rallied and turned Friends and Family into a success while our man was stuck in the fridge. White saviourism can also be described as the trope of the 'white man's burden' (itself named after the Rudyard Kipling poem written as a justification for European imperial conquest of the Global South).

I'm not saying that the white saviourism here is intentional or that Carmy would even identify his behaviour in this way (unconscious biases are just that - unconscious - after all). But Carm is the product of the fine dining industry which is predominantly white. His access to those fancy kitchens was predicated on the fact that his family owned their own restaurant to begin with. That access would have been dictated by privilege and power which are inextricably tied to things like race, class, gender, ability etc. Marcus got his start in the culinary world via McDonalds while his single mum busted her ass looking after him. As far as we know, Syd had no connections in the culinary world before she embarked on her career and she's got the imposter syndrome to show for it (this is part of why I will fight to the death anyone who slags her off, she's too precious to me). 3x06 Napkins gave us huge insight into Tina's journey to fine dining which was also not easy. Likewise in 3x07 Legacy when Ted Fak (?!) gives Sweeps the latter's "I know who you are" moment. I'm still waiting on the origin stories of Ebra, Manny and Angel.

These differences between Carmy's journey and those of the characters of colour on this show matter and it was heartening to me to know that the writers of The Bear thought they mattered enough that they made them canon. These stories make it clear that of all of the people at The Beef and then The Bear, Carmy is likely the person with the most race and class privilege. And sometimes, the man acted like it! (e.g. Carmy disregarding all the work put in by the largely POC crew after he got locked in the walk in, dismissing their victorious service led by Sydney and Richie in 2x10 when he talked to Tina. He'd do this again when he spoke to Sydney in 3x01 and she has to remind him that everyone helped get the restaurant through Friends and Family).

Let me be clear: I wasn't and am still not mad that Carmy becomes an entitled, privileged little shit when the shit hits the fan. This is all in character for him (he's been this way since season 1 folks - recall 1x07 The Review).

I even expected the white saviourism to shoot itself into the stratosphere in season 3 while Carmy entered Michelin Mode. Because that is how this white man has been trained (in a largely white industry) to operate in a high pressure culinary setting that prioritises the reputation (and the glory) of the EC at the cost of everyone under them. Add to that Carmy's clear trauma, his learned behaviours from dealing with an abusive mother and absent father, his discordant relationships with his parentified siblings, his psychotic ex-boss, his grief...I was certain the man was going to be a hot, dysregulated mess for at least part of this season. And he was.

BUT...

What I wasn't counting on was the overabundance of the Faks (I am still not over John fucking Cena taking up screen time on this show OR that it was Neil and Ted at the end of 3x08 Ice Chips, visiting Nat and Donna after Nat's delivery), and the overabundance of Claire content, while we had the season running away from our characters of colour.

Sydney spent most of season 3 mediating between two dysregulated white guys (Richie and Carmy - though her character didn't do this without a fight, a la "I'm not your fucking babysitter" in 3x03 Doors) and being subjected to Carmy's tirades all through service and prep, without much exposition at all about her and her motivations for staying at The Bear (we get a glimpse - a beautiful one that absolutely devastated me - just before her panic attack in the season's last episode 3x10). We even had Marcus in 3x03 Doors (this particular choice PISSED me all the way off given the absolute lack of care given to this character and the passing of his mother in the same episode) pushing both the Magical Negro trope and the white man's burden trope as he tells Carmy to "take us there Bear": a plea to Carm to make the restaurant work for the crew's sake. In 3x05 Children, we get Carmy treating Ebra like an actual Magical Negro in one of the few exchanges between the two of them this season, when Carm asks Ebra, "Am I fucking this up?" about, well - in a moment I'd like to think was fourth wall knocking - this entire season/the operation of the restaurant.

@kensatou in this brilliant gifset (of one of the funniest bits this season) also points out how the restaurant is contributing to the gentrification of its neighbourhood, further driving the restaurant and us viewers towards an increasing whitening of the world of The Bear.

Then we've got one of the most frustrating aspects of racism and misogynoir associated with this show and a seemingly bewildering response from the cast and crew in tackling it: the INSISTENCE at different points in time by some fans of the show, the cast and the crew that Sydney and Carmy are platonic and nothing more. All the cues and subtext in the show itself, be damned. I won't go through all the arguments as to why this is bullshit but will say, many folks have talked about how many m/f platonic relationships there are on this show (Richie/Tina, Richie/Sydney, Marcus/Sydney, Marcus/Tina, Richie/Nat, Michael/Tina, Carmy/every other woman apart from Sydney etc). There’s no shortage so why are folks so pressed with Sydcarmy? *cough* anti-black racism and misogynoir is why *cough*. Anyway...there's been LOTS of exposition about this on Tumblr by folks much more well-versed in this discourse than me. Just search the #sydcarmy hashtag for that brilliance.

Some (including me) have wondered why the cast and creators don’t directly address the obvious racism behind calls for Sydcarmy to only be platonic, or at the very least, just tell people calling for this to watch the damn show and see. Instead Sydcarmies were met with official denials of any kind of romantic relationship between Syd and Carmy right up until premiere of season 3. I know I personally felt that the insistence by the cast and crew to actively deny any romantic relationship between a Black woman and white man on this show was frustrating to the n'th degree. But then I jumped on Tumblr, as we do, and fell into the fourth wall, magic trick and legerdemain discussions and I got thoughts...if you're still here, I promise I'm almost at my point lol, stick with me.

Racism as the sleight of hand, white supremacy as the deception

The singular Toni Morrison famously described racism as a distraction (tres legerdemain-ish, n'est-ce pas?):

"The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of that is necessary. There will always be one more thing."

The above quote is from a talk that Ms Morrison gave at Portland State University in 1975 entitled "Black Studies Center Public Dialogue, Part 2". You can listen to the talk in full here. A transcript of the talk can also be found here.

What if, the racism driving the anti-Sydcarmy antagonism and the cast and crew not addressing it or letting it fester is the point. Racism doing what racism does: distracting and deceiving. What if the pay off from this sleight of hand is that in season 4 we get what we know is destined to happen? An outcome based on the cues and clues that are littered throughout this show for anyone with a modicum of media literacy and without the blinders that a racist worldview grants: Sydcarmy.

And what about what Morrison said next in her talk,

"The distraction is no different than bombing Cambodia to keep the Northern Vietnamese from making their great push. And since not history, not anthropology, not social sciences seem capable in a strong and consistent way to grapple with that problem, it may very well be left to the artists to do it.

For art focuses on the single grain of rice, the tree-shaped scar, and the names of people, not only the number that arrived. And to the artist one can only say, not to be confused, [sigh] not to be confused.

You don’t waste your energy fighting the fever; you must only fight the disease. And the disease is not racism. It is greed and the struggle for power.

And I urge you to be careful. For there is a deadly prison: the prison that is erected when one spends one’s life fighting phantoms, concentrating on myths, and explaining over and over to the conqueror your language, your lifestyle, your history, your habits.

And you don’t have to do it anymore. You can go ahead and talk straight to me."

Now Morrison was speaking directly to Black artists, creators and thinkers when she gave the above talk but I would argue that all creators who are telling stories that feature people of colour, or people from communities that have been systemically discriminated against for whatever reason, have a responsibility to heed her call. Speak DIRECTLY to the communities you are representing in your work. And if you are doing your damn job properly in 2024, that is ALL OF US, in some shape or form. What Morrison is asking folks to do, is de-center the white gaze.

Ok so bearing in mind the above, back to the fourth wall, the magic trick and an invitation to believe. Recall this screenshot from 3x09 Apologies:

@currymanganese has theorised that Richie is the author-avatar for The Bear creator Chris Storer. Storer is partners with Gillian Jacobs (the actress who plays Tiff, also pictured here) in real life. In essence, we are looking at some version of "mom and dad" of this show (ideally, we'd have an avatar for showrunner Joanna Calo in here instead, but I'm working with what I got). After Tiff says "Well, I know my demographic" in the above scene, Richie/Storer stays looking at the camera long after Tiff turns away from it.

Let’s be real, in any other circumstance, if two white people were looking me dead in the eye and saying they knew who their demographic was, I’d be worried lmao. I'm still worried because for a white showrunner like Storer to even begin to understand just HOW paradigm shifting what I'm going to suggest below is, would be huge.

But...what if the demographic is us? The viewership that was drawn into this show by the unapologetic and unambiguous representation of Black characters and characters of colour in season 1 of The Bear? A show that had Sydney making stew and plantains for the family meal from the jump in 1x01 System, that had Tina calling Carmy a puta while next second claiming no Inglés, that had Marcus, Sydney and Sweeps code switching to AAVE with no explanation to anyone; that had Marcus lovingly applying Palmer's Cocoa Butter (iykyk) to his bedridden mother's hands? A viewership that includes many people of colour who have been so frustrated by the sidelining of the characters of colour this season because of the show's focus on Carmy, the fucking Faks and Claire?

Now there has been some analysis on the purpose of the Faks and Claire which has lightened my heart somewhat. But the treatment of racialised characters this season still doesn't sit completely square with me.

Do Storer and Calo have what it takes to do what Toni Morrison commanded and not be confused? To go ahead and talk straight to us in season 4?

Will they make things square like Carmy alluded to in his description of what he wants his legacy to be, in 3x07?

As much as I went into my issues with this season here in this post, I am hopeful. I love this show. I love how it deals with grief. I love the symbolism and the quality of the writing, I love the acting, I love the cinematography. I love the music. This thing is a veritable feast. And I know it can be yet greater, if it heeds Ms Morrison's demand.

There's glimpses that its doing this and hopefully, will take the thread and run with it head-first into season 4: at the end of 3x10 Forever who is it that brings all of us viewers back to the idea of chosen family (what the showrunners have said the show is actually about)? Which character is seen remembering the original crew of the Beef and their trajectory to the end of season 3? Who has refused to run away from them all throughout the show (and when she did, she came back)? Whose arrival at The Beef kickstarts this whole ride in the first place? Its the CDC of The Bear: Sydney Adamu.

If Storer and Calo want to take this legerdemain shit seriously, then season 4 needs to centre Sydney as the main protagonist. It needs to return to its characters of colour. It needs to paradigm shift the fuck out of this show.

We already got Ayo directing the season premiere for season 4. I am cautiously holding out hope for more of the same next season. Listen, I know I am asking for folks to suspend maybe everything we know about systemic racism in the entertainment industry here lol. But if this season has been about the suspension of belief and distraction, maybe Ms Morrison’s words are more prescient than ever. And if these showrunners are committing to the bit as hard as I think they are, maybe the final season of The Bear is going to be its best yet.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 20

Damn guys, wow! Twenty chapters in. Shit. Wow. We've only got five chapters to go.

Hey, remember that breakdown that Steve feared was coming? Yeah it's in this chapter. Just not the person anyone thought it would be. Also Steve learns to lean on the people who love him.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

~

Steve was nervous. He was rarely nervous on stage, but this was special. Eddie had written a duet version of one Corroded Coffin’s songs and Abbadon was going to feature. So when The Fallen left and Corroded Coffin came on, the first song would be the new duet.

Apparently Gareth had been badgering Eddie to include it in the set list since before the whole rehab stint. But that was around the time Steve and he got together and felt it was too close to the mark to sing it on stage like that.

But somehow the three other members had convinced him and Eddie in turn had managed to convince The Fallen, both bands managers, and their tech guys to let them do it in Denver.

The Fallen finished their encore and they huddled together as Corroded Coffin’s equipment was set up.

Then it was time, with all the lights off Abbadon went to stand in the middle of the stage, directly in front Gareth’s stage where his kit was. The spotlights came on, first highlighting Gareth, then Brian, Jeff, and then Eddie.

Abbadon stood in the darkness, microphone in hand, head hung between his shoulders.

This was the moment. The moment Steve had spent his whole adult life dreaming about. On stage with Corroded Coffin to sing with Eddie. His only regret that it was as Abbadon and not himself. But damn, he’d be fool to turn down the opportunity and he knew it.

Eddie started in on guitar; the sweet, slow build up of one of their greatest hits. “Run, Lover Boy, Run.”

But when the first verse started it wasn’t the gravelly growl of Eddie Munson, but the haunting tenor of Abbadon.

“When I see you there,

Standing with your friends,

I have to stop and stare,

Because, baby I know how this ends...”

Finally Abbadon was lit by a pale blue light, making the white of his costume seem ghost like and eerie. He raised his head and the lace mask made him even more beautiful. He walked toward the front of the stage slowly as he joined Eddie front and center.

To say the crowd went wild would have been an understatement. The Fallen fans were freaking out and screaming and crying. The Corroded Coffin fans roared their approval as Abbadon’s voice lent the song a melancholy vibe.

Eddie sang the second verse and then they joined in together for the chorus. Abbadon leaned in close, their spotlights blending together.

“Run, Lover Boy, Run,

Don’t you know,

You were only a little bit of fun

Run, Lover Boy, Run

You were looking for love,

Can’t you see we’re done?”

Abbadon knew he should have moved back for the next verse, but somehow he found himself draped over Eddie. Even though the song was about being used by a guy he thought he could trust but was only looking for a hookup and not something more serious. He just couldn't move away.

Eddie had a white knuckle grip on his guitar, playing his hardest and singing about heartbreak. Abbadon’s microphone was at his side as he shared Eddie’s. He had even turned it off to avoid feedback.

They were so close that any closer they would have been making out over the microphone. But the thing that really tipped things over the edge was when the final verse came, Abbadon sunk to his knees and belted it out. So from a certain perspective it looked as though he was grinding against Eddie leg.

The crowd went absolutely feral. There was screaming, crying, and apparently in two extreme cases, fainting.

He wasn’t.

Steve wanted to make that clear. He wasn’t grinding against Eddie’s leg. To both their management and the media. Because, yeah he saw the video the fans uploaded and it was very suspect, but his other fans had his back. They posted the view from the other side of the stadium where he was just a few feet away from the lead singer, on his knees, his free hand clenched in a fist.

But oh boy did fuel rumors about Abbadon and Eddie in ways that made Steve’s skin crawl. It was a good thing they had two days before they got to Vegas for Steve to hide in their trailer.

“Steve!” Robin as Robin called out, banging on the door. “Come on, Steve, you can’t hide in there forever!”

Eddie had tried. Chrissy had tried. Hell, even Vickie gave it a go. But Steve refused to budge. Shane let out a sigh after Simon and Spence were both sent away as well.

“Let me try,” he said softly.

They all cleared out to let Shane have a go. He sat down on the steps to the trailer and leaned his head against the door.

“Hey, Steve,” he muttered. “You don’t have to come out, but I’m gonna start talking and maybe you’ll decide to do that on your own.”

He was met with silence. Which was already a step up from the shouts to go away. So he started talking.

“I worry about us as friends, all of us,” he said, strained. “Simon keeps turning down women who are generally into him because he thinks they’re only into him because of what we do. But there have been some real good ones. One that wanted to get to know him, but he just shuts them down. I worry about his attachment to you. I know he’s straight. I’ve hit on him before... before you I guess. Back when we were just some idiots in a cafe who didn’t know what life was.”

He let out a watery chuckle. “But I’ve also seen girls flirt with him as a roadie and he still thinks it’s because of what he does rather than wanting him for he who is. He’s a good guy. He’s one of the best. But he doesn’t seem to want to be better.”

Shane looked up at the clear blue sky and let out a shuddering breath. He hung his head.

“Spence doesn’t want to go out anymore,” he continued, his voice quaking with the feeling of loss. “All he wants to do is spend all his time talking to Nadia. The only time he goes out is as someone else and that can’t be healthy either.”

He ran his fingers through his tight red curls, gripping them at the base and pulling. His hands shook with the effort and the emotions.

“I just came out as gay and I’m frightened by it all,” Shane said. “My parents are supportive. Because of course they are. But I can tell the difference in people from the way they used to look at me and how they look at me now. I was going to teach middle school, Steve. I was going to teach world history to teenagers. But this changed everything.”

There was a soft thud behind him and he figured it was Steve sitting on the floor in front of the door.

“But of all us,” he whispered through his tears, “I worry about you the most. You think you have to be strong for everyone else. You came out with me and I’m getting more support than you are. Yeah, you have a good support system. I wouldn’t have allowed you to come out otherwise, twin. But this moment that blew up in your face, shouldn’t have.”

He lifted his head up and let the tears continue to stream down his face. “It should have been a moment of pure joy and it turned into an embarrassment. You’ll forever look back at the first time you sang with shame. And you shouldn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were incandescent. You lit up that stage and it was beautiful.”

The door to the trailer opened a crack and instantly Shane was on his feet. He opened the door all the way and slipped inside, closing it tightly behind him. Sitting in the dark on the floor not far from the door was a very disheveled Steve. It looked like he hadn’t slept in awhile. They all traveled together, but Steve had taken to locking people out until it was time to get on the road again.

“Hey, twin,” Shane muttered as he moved to sit next to him on the floor.

Steve snorted. They looked nothing alike but by some twist of fate they had been born on the same day, year and all. Steve was older by like seven hours. So Shane had taken to calling him twin when no one else was around.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I hate making people worry about me.”

Shane bumped their shoulders together. “Well that’s too damn bad, Steve. Because you don’t get to make that choice for other people.”

Steve out a shuddering breath. “It’s not even the fallout of people thinking I was grinding against him that bothers me the most.”

“Yeah?” Shane asked with a huff. “What is?”

“That I wanted to.” Steve buried his head in his hands. “I wanted to touch him, kiss him, hell even fuck him on that stage. But I knew that if I wavered for even a fucking second the backlash would be, oh so much worse.”

Shane looked at him for a moment. “No it wouldn’t.” Steve’s head whipped around to face him. “Steve...you hang off me and Simon all the time. You flirt with the audience. All the photo shoots of you are in sexy poses. Shit, man. You wouldn’t be doing anything different than a half a dozen heterosexual bands have done on stage.”

Steve thought about it for a moment. And Shane was right. A famous rockstar humped a massive blown up dick on stage and no one thought twice about that. At least none that weren’t going to be pearl clutching about it in the first place.

“Oh,” he whispered. “Fuck.”

“I think you should play up into more if I’m honest,” Shane huffed. “You’re out as bisexual. Play into the stereotype of being a slut. The people who know you, know you’re with Eddie and monogamous, but those people,” he pointed out of the trailer, “the ones that don’t matter? Soak up all that attention and feed on it.”

Steve’s eyes lit up and a slow smile spread out over his face. Pictures started forming in his head. He thought about how his persona was already the opposite of him in real life. He thought about the thrill he got when he saw the photos of him online from the angle that made it look risque. He thought about how he wanted to play up into flirting with Eddie on stage.

“Can you get the rest of the band in here with Robin and Eddie and Vickie if you can get her too?”

Shane’s answering grin was all he needed to know. Shane got to his feet and within minutes everyone was huddled together in the trailer and Steve explained his idea.

Vickie smiled wickedly. “I think it’s a brilliant idea and if Eddie’s on board with it I’d be happy to lean into that.”

Eddie sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think what might make it easier so people don’t focus on me is if I get the rest of the Corroded Coffin boys in on it too. That way if Steve as Abbadon is seen flirting with the whole band it’ll come off as being a flirt and not that there’s something specific between Abbadon and I.”

“I like that,” Simon agreed. “Abbadon is already all over Astraeus and Asmodeus so flirting with Jeff and Brian as well as Eddie that would play up into the slut allegations.”

Steve laughed and then shared a knowing smile with Robin. Yep. Simon might be shy about most things but when it came to Steve... that was a whole other kettle of fish.

“We’ll do another duet tonight,” Eddie said, nodding. “Have Abbadon start Gareth’s lap or something.”

“I’m glad you’re doing better,” Spence said, “but don’t lock us out next time. You’re there for us. It’s time you let us be there for you. Okay?”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “Yeah, okay.”

They all came up and gave Steve huge hugs before they piled out of the trailer again, leaving behind Shane and Eddie.

“Thanks for getting him to come out of his shell,” Eddie said to Shane. “I didn’t know what to say because it’s always been apart of my contract that I was out and loud.” He stood up and gave Steve a sweet kiss on the mouth before he, too, went back outside.

“You going to be okay, Steve?” Shane asked, moving to sit next to him on the sofa. Well futon technically, but semantics.

Steve looked up at his friend. “I worry about you, too.” Shane let out a an aborted laugh. “I know you’re frightened of being out, but I know you’ve been coming back from partying all hours of the night and sometimes day. Spence and Simon sleep like fucking logs and snore just like sawing them. But I hear you.”

Shane buried his head in his hands for a moment before running his fingers down his face. “I’ll tell you what, twin. I’ll cut back on the partying, if accept our help. And not just some of the time. Come to us for help and I’ll keep the partying to a minimum.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Just take Spence out with you and we’ll call it a deal.”

He reached out his hand and shook it. “Deal.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[rainylana]

“I’m always going to take care of you.” Alternate Version! part two!

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: part two of my series, will also be the final part in the installation.

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, depression and breakdowns, explicit details of rape and violence, mostly told in eddie’s pov, language. if i missed anything please let me know! i hope you enjoyed the reboot of this series<3 let me know your thoughts on this one, it was tough to write!

“Please, Y/n, you can’t shut me out. You can’t.” Eddie was sat by your hospital bed beside you, hands holding the metal railing that was put up at the sides.

“I told you, Eddie,” Your voice broke, eye swollen, purple and red with a gleam of tears. “I don’t need to talk about it.”

“Don’t need to talk about it?” He repeated shockingly, more so to himself.

You’d woke up an three hours ago, having been out for almost thirteen hours after you’d passed out. You were a completely different person. You’d shut down, cold, unwilling to talk about what happened. You only wanted one thing, and that was to go home. Eddie didn’t know how to handle it. He knew he shouldn’t push you. You obviously needed time, but Eddie wasn’t a patient man, and he needed you to be okay.

“Please,” Your voice broke, looking over to him with a bruised eye, the skin around your nose red and aggravated. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Eddie, but I am fine. Just forget about it and get me out of here.”

The police had been there as soon as you woke up to question you. Did you recognize your attacker? Had you ever seen him before? What was he wearing? How tall? Did he tell you his name? What was his hair color? So many questions and so little answers. You hardly remembered it, yet you couldn’t seem to forget it.

Eddie had sent Wayne and all of his friends home. You weren’t up for visitors. Frankly, you were scaring Eddie. You seemed pissed, angry at the world and broken, not able to be fixed. You had a look in your eye that you’d never had before.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” He said tiredly. He didn’t sleep a wink in that uncomfortable chair.

Eddie left you alone then, leaving the room with a heavy sigh. He found your doctor at the front desk giving check out papers to another patient. “Dr. Grant?” Eddie called, gaining the female doctors attention. “How much longer till Y/n can leave?”

“We want to keep her just a few more hours for observation.” She checked her clipboard. “Just until we get the results of her head ct.”

Eddie nodded, not wanting to tell you the news of having to stay longer. He looked like a shell of a man, broken, eyes red rimmed and lips cracked from chewing on them. “I don’t know what to, doctor.” He looked to the floor. “She won’t talk to me.”

Dr. Grant frowned at Eddie, pulling him to the side so they could sit in the waiting room. She put her clipboard down on her lap. “Mr. Munson it will take some time before y/n will feel comfortable with talking. I can assure you that it’s perfectly normal in rape victims to shut down.”

He visibly cringed at her choice of words. Rape victim. You were a rape victim.

“I’m going to give you some paper work that may help you help her.” She smiled, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “I know it seems impossible, Mr. Munson, but eventually she will be okay again. It’ll just take time.”

Dr. Grant left the pamphlets on his lap as she left for her rounds. He looked down to find brightly colored pieces of paper, the words rape and assault plastered all over them. He got up quickly when his eyes teared up, disappearing into the bathroom and shoving the papers in his pocket.

Take time, it certainly did.

•

You acted as if nothing happened. You went on about your daily chores, cooked meals and cleaned the trailer. You were pretending, acting. Eddie couldn’t pretend nor could he forget. He was trying to be patient, that’s what the pamphlets told him. Be patient and understanding. But Eddie saw right through you. You weren’t that good of an actress.

He could see how broken you were, the look in your eyes was shattered and gone. The aches in your body you pretended weren’t there, how uncomfortable you were sleeping in the same bed with him. He offered to sleep on the couch and you’d nearly bitten his head off, saying you were fine and he was overreacting. All you were was angry when he talked to you. When anyone talked to you.

When it got late, when everything had been done for the day, you’d sit outside on the porch and stare up at the sky, smoking your pack of cigarettes that you’d swiped from Hopper a few weeks prior. You’d stay out there past midnight. Eddie hadn’t even seen you cry. You didn’t cry or get sad, only angry. That’s all you ever were.

You spent a lot of time in the shower, hours at a time during the night when you thought he was asleep. He never was. Neither of you slept peacefully anymore. You were barely eating. You tried, tried to keep up appearances to prove that you were okay, but you were slipping. It was getting harder and harder.

It had only been three days, but Eddie was starting to loose it. He couldn’t handle watching you fade away so quickly.

It was late when he finally had dozed off, but your absence in the bed woke him. His hand reached out to find you, only feeling the blanket and pillow. His eyes squinted in the dark, his heart beginning to race. Where were you?

He found you in the living room, one single lamp on that made your face an orange color, staring off into space with a blanket wrapped around you. Eddie frowned, turning on the kitchen light that made you jump slightly.

He tried to ignore the way you stiffened when he sat down, sitting a few feet away from you. He stared at you the entire time, trying to read your face. You looked broken. Utterly broken and so, so sad.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie began, sighing deeply. “I can’t keep watching you like this. I’m trying to…give you time, but it’s killing me watching you-” He stopped when he felt a lump build in his throat, not wanting to cry in front of you.

“I’m fine.” You dismissed him every time, not wanting to entertain the idea of breaking down in front of him. The mere fact he knew what happened, what everyone knew, made you feel weak and disgusting. Like a huge spotlight was on you. It was the worst feeling you’d ever felt, like you were standing naked on a stage, vulnerable and exposed.

Eddie bit his cheek and looked away. “No, you’re not, Y/n.” He swallowed roughly, looking back to you. “And that’s okay. I know you feel like it’s not, but it is. You don’t have to shut me out. Please, baby, you can’t shut me out.”

You squinted your eyes shut and looked to the wall. “Eddie,” You begged. “I can’t.”

You can’t.

That was the first time you had said that. That you couldn’t talk about it. Your voice had broke, just only a little. It was the first time he’d seen real emotion in three days. He didn’t want to push you, but you had to let it out. There was no way you could keep on living like this. It wasn’t healthy.

Eddie looked toward the window, it was pitch black outside, not even the flood lights were on. They had quit working a few weeks ago and no one had come to fix it yet. He swallowed back anxiety and nausea. “I know you’re scared-”

“No, you don’t.” You snapped, still refusing to look at him. “You don’t know how I feel. Nobody knows how I feel. They’re just trying to be nice.”

“Then tell me, baby.” He begged, placing his hand on your knee.

You shoved it off, storming up and escaping to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it just as quick. The shower was turned on within seconds, then he heard you crying, trying to muffle it with the sound of your sweater, or maybe it was a towel.

You hated him. You had to. There couldn’t have been no other explanation for your anger and hatred. You blamed him for what happened, for not coming to your rescue sooner, you just wouldn’t admit out loud. He felt like you’d been killed that night, like your very spirit had been snuffed away like a lit match. He missed you. It was his fault. It was because of him. He was the reason your spirit was gone.

He put his head in his hands and cried.

•

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Wayne. She won’t talk to me. She’ll barely even look at me. She won’t let me touch her. She won’t…she won’t tell me what happened. She blames me. I know she does.” Eddie pushed out air between his lips, struggling to breath. He’d showed up to Wayne’s mid panic attack one morning when you refused to get out of bed. The both of you almost broke out in a fight, except you wouldn’t fight. You didn’t have the energy. It had been another three days gone by.

He was sitting on his uncle’s old sofa, going back and forth from putting his head between his knees or fisting his hair with his hands. Wayne was making himself a fresh cup of coffee, watching as his nephew suffer through his anxiety.

“No, buddy, she doesn’t. She’s just hurtin’.” He poured the coffee into his mug.

“Then why won’t she let me in?” He bounced his knee. “Why won’t she let me help her? She blames me.”

“Try to imagine yourself in her shoes, Ed.” Wayne came over, cradling his mug as he pulled out the kitchen chair, sitting himself in front of his nephew.

“I can’t.” Eddie shook his head. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s feeling.”

“That’s my point.” His uncle continued, raising his mug. “You don’t have the slightest idea what she’s going through, you’ve got to give her more time. It’s not even been a week yet, buddy. I know you’re anxious to help her. She’s lucky to have you.”

She’s lucky to have you.

He bit his nail nervously, thinking back to leaving you at the trailer, covered in blankets and refusing to get out of bed. He shouldn’t have left you, but he was on the verge of another breakdown and needed his uncle.

“Why is she so angry?” He gulped, his throat dry from his quick breathing. “I’ve never seen her this angry before.”

“Because she doesn’t know how to process what she went through.” Wayne placed his coffee on the table after another sip. “When we’re hurtin’, sometimes it turns to anger. I think you can relate to that, huh?”

He could. With the kind of life he led, his childhood, everything after vecna and the trauma he endured, he knew exactly what his father figure was talking about. When you hurt, when you have nothing else to feel, you get pissed off.

•

When Eddie got back home, he knew you were still in bed. The lights were off, the tv was off. The poor fish you shared hadn’t been fed yet. He quietly walked into your shared bedroom, the sunlight peering through the curtains, illuminating your face. The blankets were tangled around you, your arms hugging the pillow. You stared at the wall into nothingness, s blank look on your face that spoke volumes of emotion. You were heartbroken.

Eddie watched you for awhile, making his way to sit at the foot of the bed. He sat by your feet, putting his hand on your blanket covered ankles, squeezing them reassuringly. “How about something to eat, huh?”

It took you several seconds to respond. “I’m not hungry.”

He would much rather you be angry than like this. A zombie, unwillingly to move or breath, not able to function or communicate with him.

“What about some tea?” He tried, eyes soft and round, his hand softly rubbing circles on your leg.

You cringed under his touch, shaking your head. “I don’t want tea, Eddie.”

Then, Eddie’s throat filled with a ball of sick, but he quickly forced it back down. You said his name with such malice, such hatred and venom that told him everything he needed to know. You did blame him.

His eyes filled with tears and he stared at the wall. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

He’d said it time and time again, but his words came out in a desperation that he hadn’t yet conveyed to you.

“I don’t blame you for hating me.” He sniffled, his curls shaking with the weight of his shoulders. “I’m to blame and-”

“Eddie, please,” You sobbed, making him practically flinch in surprise. You were crying. “Stop it.”

He let out a whimper, falling to his knees so he could kneel at your head. “Honey,” He cried. “My baby girl, I can’t stand the thought of you hating me. Please, angel, just let me take care of you. Talk to me. Let me in.” He was begging you with a cracked, broken voice that made you sob right along with him.

His hand went to touch your cheek, but you flinched and sat up, bringing the blankets up to your chest. “It’s not you, Eddie!” You blubbered, snot running down your nose. “I don’t hate you! You can’t think that! P-please, don’t think that!”

He crawled up on the bed to sit in front of you, hot tears still rolling down his face. “Then why are you shutting me out? We’re supposed to be a team! We promised each other! You promised me and I promised you! Please, baby, I have to know what happened! It’s killing me!”

“I can’t!” You exclaimed, your tousled up hair falling at the sides. “Oh, God, Eddie, I can’t! I can’t talk about it! I can’t do anything! I just want to lay here and die!” You coiled over and wailed broken-heartedly, a song of cries that boiled out of your throat and paralyzed you. You curled up into a ball and practically screamed into the blankets. Eddie was shaking, bringing up a hand to bit as hard as he could, not knowing if you would allow him to touch you,

He placed one hand on you gently, and when you didn’t pull away, he quickly gathered you in his arms. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here, sweetheart. Just let it out. Let it out, let it out.”

You let him hold you, and in desperation of the moment, you wrapped your arm around his leg to bring the heat of his body flush to yours. You bawled your heart out into him, emptying all your fears and sorrow.

“I- I can’t stop- thinking a-bout him!” You said hysterically, your tears making his jean covered knee damp. “It hurt so-so bad, Eddie!” It sounded like your cries caused you physical pain, your words coming out choppy and broken.

Your bruised ribs ached from your heavy sobs, your hands going to hold your stomach. “God, oh, God, Eddie, I can’t do it! I can’t! I can’t!”

“You don’t have to.” He said firmly, trying to control his own sobs so you could understand him. “You give all that pain to me, okay? You give it all to me. I can handle it. You let me take care of you. I’m always going to take care of you, sweetheart.”

Your bruised nose had started to bleed onto his jeans, going unnoticed from the both of you. You were hyperventilating, shaking and practically convulsing in his arms.

“Come on, baby,” He held you to his chest, your body still curled up against him. “It’s okay, I’m here. Just let it out. Tell me what you need to.”

It hurt. It hurt so bad. He hurt me so bad and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so scared. I’m scared he’s going to find me. I don’t want you to look at me differently. I feel so weak. Please still love me. Please stay with me. Don’t tell anyone I’m afraid.

You cried for so many things, but he listened to every last word you had to offer him. You told him what happened. A man had followed you into the bedroom, forced you down and split your legs apart, punching you in the nose and kneeing you in the ribs, shoving himself inside you like a sword, piercing it’s way into you roughly. You had cried and cried, screamed and begged, till you didn’t, finally going into shock and laying there, taking it.

Eddie had tried his hardest not to breakdown at your confession, but he could only do so much. He held you into the dark of night, promising what he had said. He was always going to take care of you.

[dreamwatch]

Part 2 Part 3 AO3

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Prompts: Black, Friday, "I'm not standing in line for that", Leftovers, Trampled, One Day Only, "I am giving thanks."

Yeah... all of them, and you're right, it was a stupid idea.

Part 1

Word Count: Pt1 - 3080 | Rating: M | CW: Past suicidal ideation (very subtle, blink and you'll miss, I'm just being cautious) | POV: Mixed - Pt1 Eddie, Pt2 Steve, Pt3 Eddie | Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth CC, Jeff CC, Matt CC, Wayne Munson, disabled Eddie Munson, pining, protective Gareth, protective Steve, kissing, guitars, reference to canon typical injuries, references to blood and injury - - please let me know if you think I've missed any.

I'm posting in 3 parts, because this is nearly 12k in total, which is a lot. Mods - hope that's ok! I'll link them all together. :)

There’s a wispy smell of smoke wafting under his bedroom door.

Something’s on fire.

His eyes fly open. Holy shit, something’s on fire!

Eddie pulls himself out of bed as quick as he can; in a fraction of a second his mind has managed to flick through his options like a rolodex  - grab his crutches, yes or no? Should he put clothes on? It’s freezing outside, he should at least bring a sweater, right? Shoes though, those are definitely important. Maybe he doesn’t need to go out at all, maybe it’s small and he can deal with it himself—

He’s hears crashing and banging from his kitchen, followed by a loud “Mother fucker!” 

That is definitely not Wayne.

He’s on fire and he’s being burgled.

He grabs a crutch with the full intention of braining someone with it, and drags his sleep addled body through the house. He stumbles into his kitchen, crutch raised to find Steve Harrington waving a towel around, and something smouldering in the sink while being doused with water.

“Uh, what the fuck is going on?”

Steve spins around, the towel waving come to an abrupt end.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Eddie limps to the kitchen table and gingerly lowers himself into a seat. It’s been eight months since… since. His mind is in a surprisingly good place, all things considered, but his body, not so much. After everything, after Chrissy, God rest her soul, and Patrick, and being hunted by an entire town, and then being ripped apart by creatures that shouldn’t exist outside of comic books and fantasy games, after all of that his body just said ‘enough.’ The bats got enough bone, muscle and tendon to leave him changed in ways he couldn’t imagine when he was sitting under Skull Rock trying to make sense of what his life was going to be like if he lived long enough to see it;  court cases, long prison sentences (or death row), and a complete and utter mental breakdown. He avoided the court proceedings and prison, but he got his mental breakdown eventually, once the relief of being alive and the undoing of handcuffs had sunk in. He was free. He was going to live. Time for his mind to try and process the tsunami of emotions that overwhelmed it during the summer.

He got through it.

There’s a number of reasons for that. Wayne, first and foremost. Wayne, who never doubted him, who had always done his best by Eddie, somehow managed to step it up another notch. He took extended leave from work, that Eddie knows he couldn’t afford unless he had managed to dip into what Eddie knew to be an extremely meagre savings account. Eddie doesn’t love easy, trusts people even less so. People leave. People can be bitterly mean, people can hit and lash out when you’re least expecting it. His father was a viper in their nest of a home, always coiled, ready to strike. Wayne was never like that. Eddie pushed that mans buttons so hard but there were no hands raised, no words that couldn’t be taken back. Just disappointment. Anger was rare, but Eddie had been beyond a fucker to him at times, when he was young and the world had torn away everything he knew, the good and the bad. They fought, then they made up. Nothing was held over his head, nothing got filed away and thrown at him at a later date. They fought, they said sorry, they moved on. 

Eddie doesn’t love easy, and he trusts people even less so, but the exception to that is, and always will be, Wayne Munson.

Of course, there is also the Nerd Brigade that he kind of thought he would just never really hear from again, if he’s honest. They went to school together, he ran campaigns for them, and okay, they saved him from something horrific but like, it’s just something he got caught up in right? He didn’t really mean anything to them, after all. 

Except, they visited him in the hospital. They came to visit him at home. They brought him books and tapes and magazines, and kept him company when he was stuck in bed most days. Brought him movies once he could make it to the sofa. He wasn’t in the mood for them in those early days, especially when he was stuck in his little tar pit, but they kept throwing him ropes until he hung on. Stubborn to the bitter end.

Gareth, and Jeff and Matt. Well, that was more complicated, because they couldn’t ever know what had happened, and explaining away injuries like his was tough when you can’t say the words ‘inter-dimensional bats.’ There was a wall there for a while. It’s a fence now. They can see over the top of it, can link hands and shoot the shit, but it’s still a divider. Maybe one day they’ll get to push the last of it down.

The last reason he managed to climb out that nasty fucking pit of self loathing and pity was currently standing in his kitchen with an exasperated look on his face, dish towel over his shoulders and hands on his hips. 

Dustin and the other kids he could understand. They’re excitable chimps, nerds of the highest order. They have things in common, things to talk to him about that gave him a reason to wake up in the morning, and get out of bed. And his band, well they’re his band, you know? Brothers in arms, even if the arms are linked a little looser than before.

But Steve Harrington turning up to their new home? Nope, that was not on his recovery bingo card.

Steve was there in the hospital, dropping off and picking up kids. So sometimes he sat with him a while, when the chimps were visiting Max. And then one day Chief Powell walks in, mutters some half assed apology and uncuffs him. Just like that. As it turned out, those cuffs were the finger in the dam. And once you take the finger away, it all comes pouring out.

Eddie’s not entirely sure about what happened next. He knows he let out the most embarrassingly loud sob, and that spurred Steve into motion because then he’s being held; Steve was on his bed wrapping his arms around him, and fuck if Eddie didn’t hurt all over, his skin, his legs, his everything on fire, but it felt good to be held. To have someone to press their mouth so close to his ear and tell him it’s okay, you’re going to be okay, for someone to stroke his hair, lay a comforting hand on his back. For someone to reach the pain that morphine could never dull.

After that, Steve was just there, with or without the little assholes that tormented him. He was there the day the doctors told him they couldn’t do much more for him, he was there the day Eddie went home. He had been there even when Eddie wasn’t; the asshole had helped Wayne move into their new little house and decorate the place. 

He was there through the summer, there with the kids, there without. He was there when all Eddie could do was stare blankly at a wall, and he was there when all Eddie could do was cry. He was there when things started to get better.

And now he’s here, setting fire to Wayne’s new kitchen at eight P.M.  on Thanksgiving. 

“Not that I’m not pleased to see you, obviously, but um… why are you setting fire to my home?”

“I wasn’t setting fire to your home, asshole. I was trying to—“ he gestures angrily at the sink, “make you dinner. Or heat, it up at least. But that’s ruined, so…”

“Dinner?”

Steve shrugs at him, flushes a little across his cheeks, and Eddie does his best not to think about that too much.

“I just— when you said Wayne was working tonight, I just thought, you know. Like, your first Thanksgiving after… and I just thought—” He’s beet red, looks firmly at the floor, at the wall, at literally anywhere other than Eddie. “I just didn’t want you to be on your own, thats all.”

It’s not a revelation, exactly. He had several offers for Thanksgiving dinner; Hop and The Byers, which would have been desperately awkward, the Wheelers, an absolutely firm but polite no, and even the Sinclair and Hendersons. And it was all lovely, honestly, that people were over the Satan workshopping thing, but they’d moved onto the pity thing. And more fundamentally than that, their Thanksgivings were never going to be like his and Wayne’s Thanksgiving, and that’s fine. Variety is the spice of life, and he’s sure they’ll have a great time. It’s just not for him.

But maybe it is. Because Steve didn’t want him to be alone, and there’s a little lump growing deep in his throat. 

“That’s… really nice, actually.”

Steve huffs, dramatically. “Yeah, well, it’s ruined. Mom gave me all this left over food and all I had to do was leave it in the oven,” he scrabbles around on the counter, in amongst the dishes and retrieves a piece of paper. “It’s all here, all the times, the temperatures. And I fucking nodded off and now it’s—“ he gestures to the sink again.

Eddie climbs out of his seat and makes his way to the sink. He winces at the sight of what he thinks might have been some turkey.

“It’s pretty black.”

Steve sighs. “Understatement.”

“If you were trying to make charcoal you did a pretty good job.”

“Ha ha.” 

Steve flops into the chair Eddie vacated. “I just wanted it to be perfect for you. You know, it’s been a shitty year, like for everyone, but you especially.” He tails off, his voice gets quieter, as if he’s embarrassed by it.

Something swells inside of Eddie, a knot of happiness. Not at how dejected Steve is, but at how much it had clearly meant to him that this was good for Eddie. 

Perfect. He wanted it to be perfect. 

He needs to not be reading into things so much. There be dragons, after all.

Steve looks miserable, and Eddie hates that, can’t bear it actually, so he makes his way back to the table and flops into the chair facing Steve’s.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging Steve’s hand with his. “Honestly I really appreciate the thought.” 

And who is this Eddie Munson that doesn’t mock people for being considerate, for putting effort into things he’s never considered important? A habit born out of bitterness at not having parents like everyone else’s, at not just being different, but having to lean into the different, to own otherness before someone else takes it and wraps it around him anyway. 

He does appreciate the thought. He’s revelling in it and trying desperately to keep a lid on just how much it means to him. Outside of Wayne, who has cared this much about whether he has nice things?

Steve leans back in his seat, that quick flash of red colouring his cheeks again. “Yeah, well, the thought isn’t much good if it’s sitting in the sink burnt to a fucking crisp, is it?”

“How was your Thanksgiving?”

Steve shrugs. “It was okay. Mom was hosting this year, so we had like, a million people in the house. My cousins are a fucking nightmare, honestly, probably ripping my room apart as we speak. Animals.”

“Was the food good?”

The confused little ripple on Steve’s face is cuter than it has any right to be, and Eddie doesn’t even make an effort to stop the little smile that he knows is pulling at his own lips. He rests his head in on hand, elbow planted on the table.

“Yeah, it was good. You’d know that if I didn’t fuck up reheating it. I should have just put it in the microwave, seriously, I don’t why my mom—“

“Was the company good?”

“Uh, sure. It’s nice to see the family, yeah.”

“Was it perfect?”

There’s a silence, a little wrinkle as Steve wonders on the question. There’s something about sitting here with Steve, just the two of them at the kitchen table, burnt food in the sink. Something warm. Something homey. Like Steve fits in ways Eddie had never imagined anyone fitting. It’s resolute and fast and comes from nowhere - I want this. Eddie buries it as fast as it came.

“I mean, it was nice, sure.”

“But was it perfect?”

Steve shrugs and it strikes Eddie that Steve might think he’s being made fun of, that Eddie is goading him somehow, and nothing could be further from the truth.

“You know how I usually spend Thanksgiving? Wayne usually works it, money’s too good to pass up, you know? So he works, and I get up early and then we have a couple of Turkey dinners and a couple of beers, and maybe pie if we could get one. And then we sit in front of the TV until Wayne falls asleep in his chair. And I cover the old man up in a blanket, and I leave him to sleep for the day. I go to my room and I listen to music and I read and then when it’s time to wake him up we have waffles and ice cream and maybe some more pie if we’re feeling extra decadent. Then he goes to work. 

“And I’m here by myself and yeah, it’s lonely, sometimes. But I have Wayne, and so I get a day to be thankful for that. It’s not perfect by most people’s standards, but it’s perfect for me.”

Steve looks at him, awed.

“Holy shit.”

It feels reverent, oddly, like Steve has seen this gentle part of him, like he’s unpicked locks for Steve, like he’s—

“You’re such a sap.”

Asshole!

“I am not!”

Steve leans back in the dining chair, wood creaking dangerously, grinning widely. 

“You are! You’re a fucking sap, Eddie Munson. How did anyone think you were cool enough to be a Satan worshipper?”

Eddie damn near splutters at it. “Oh fuck you Harrington! Look at me, I’m practically the Prince of Darkness.”

“Okay, so that’s Ozzy—.”

“You remember—“

“—and also you’re a fucking pussycat.”

He has to bite his tongue, can’t say anything else or it might be something he can’t take back. And he doesn’t want to lose this. He’s never been short of friends, he has the band, and okay, they’re like eleven years old or something, but Dustin and the dweeb crew are friends now, too. There’s Robin, and Nancy - Nancy fucking Wheeler for Christ’s sake - and then there’s Steve.

There’s something to be said for people seeing you at your worst and sticking with you regardless. All of those people - okay, not the band - have seen him at his worst. Dead is probably him at his worst. Bloodied and torn open is not a good look for anyone. He feels sick thinking about it. But they saw it. 

Steve saw it, then he tried to fix it.

Or well, Steve gave him CPR; no one wants to know they’ve had CPR performed on them, it’s a window into an event that he really doesn’t want to think about. But it was Steve, and somehow that feels big in a way he can’t put his finger on.

And then Steve got him out, and Steve kept him alive in the car all the way to the hospital, and Steve screamed at a nurse until they brought a gurney, and Steve, Steve, Steve. It always comes back to Steve.

Crushes are childish things, things for hair twirling girls and handsome boys, and Eddie has never had crushes. He watches someone from afar and then stuffs it away, squashes it before it gets that far. He watched Steve, once, before folding that feeling neatly and stuffing it in a box marked ‘I Can’t Have It.’ 

But there’s something to be said for a man saving your life, for risking his own to save yours, and then for sticking with you for months after. For not just being there physically, but mentally, emotionally. There’s a bond that has been growing, a root deep within Eddie, a seed that’s been there for years but has finally been watered, has had the sun of a long hot summer to grow it; Steve is his best friend. But the flutter of more, of want, sings within him.

Sitting here with him, hands almost touching over the worn top of the kitchen table, burnt turkey in the sink, over cooked potatoes and solid gravy on the counter, it’s as close to looking at that neatly folded thing as he dares, and this time when he stuffs it back inside it hurts.

“So,” Steve says, with a soft knock-knock on the table. “Have you got plans for tomorrow? Hitting up the stores?”

Eddie can’t help the snort of laughter. “Uh, no. Just chilling here, I think. The guys asked me to go with them to Indie, but… not really in the mood for walking around the mall all day, you know?”

Steve flashes a look, like concern maybe? 

“Oh. Everything okay?”

“No, yeah, everything’s fine. Just tired is all. And you know,” he taps his leg, the only shorthand he needs for the shit show that has become his body. He smiles, big and as genuine as he can make it and it does the trick as Steve’s shoulders relax.

“What about you? Big plans?” Eddie crosses his arms and leans across the table with a wide grin on his face. “A date, maybe?” It stings his lips to say it.

“Yeah, right,” Steve scoffs. “Robin wants to get away from her family for the day, I think she has about a hundred Buckley’s camped out in her place. You’re welcome to join us?”

That flutter again. He’s so close to saying yes before he reins it in.

“Nah, I think I’m just going to laze around in my pyjamas for the day. But thanks for the offer.”

“Okay, well, if you change your mind…”

They spend the rest of the evening throwing out what’s left of Mrs Harrington’s prize, and very, very black, turkey, and ordering a pizza. And Eddie doesn’t think anymore about that thing folded up inside of him.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

As someone who took a hiatus from wrestling for a couple of years and has recently come back to it, I just wanted to share how much of a shock the current wrestling scene was for me. Breaking this down by individual wrestlers:

1) Cody Rhodes: male model who went crazy after he thought he was disfigured —> actual Captain America/Homelander

2) Drew McIntyre: Scottish guy who is just kinda there, a bit of a loser —> holy crap, he’s a major player now? And he’s apparently this obsessed crazy person who wants CM Punk dead?

3) CM Punk: best in the world, the company rebel —> not much has changed, except he’s now an oldhead who is vibing in the WWE space. He’s like that cool old guy who always has a story to tell about his younger days.

4) Rey Mysterio: the guy who does really cool tricks, but is sadly always getting injured —> he’s beefing with his son? And now he’s leading the Latino version of NWO?

5) Dominik Mysterio: Rey’s son, a NPC in the WWE universe —> biggest asshole ever, fuck this guy (not serious, I mean storyline-wise), 2nd coming of Eddie Guerrero

6) Triple H: Undertaker’s greatest enemy, the last of the old guard —> the best WWE storyteller in the last couple of years?

7) Michael Cole: annoying heel commentator —> really good face commentator

8) John Cena: All Might in his prime —> All Might in the present day, retiring and giving out wise advice to the younger wrestlers

9) Christian: Edge’s best friend, just kinda there in the WWE space —> AEW’s biggest menace

10) Kofi Kingston: the guy who does cool stunts at Royal Rumble, doesn’t really get to do much else —> was part of a nerd trio that took off in popularity, actually got to see his comedic chops

11) R-Truth: going through a mental breakdown after several years of being a rapper —> he somehow turned into Deadpool (of the people on this list, this is the most logical character development so far lol)

[runninriot]

A Christmas Wish Come True

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 25

prompt: Christmas | rated: G | wc: 1.000 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, found family, strangers to lovers

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+ bonus epilogue)

“So, wanna tell me about your little side gig as grandpa, Wayne?”

It was meant as a joke but his voice sounds angrier than he intended and it makes Eddie instantly feel bad.

   “I’m sorry. It’s just- why haven’t you told me?”

   “Look, that kid, Robbie, she only has her dad. And Steve is doing his best raising her all alone but- you know how me met? I’d just gotten off work, drove by his house and saw him sitting there on the front porch, looking like he was two seconds away from a mental breakdown. That man was a mess and he needed someone to take him by the hand. So, I reached out mine and he took it.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, a habit he always has when he’s deep in thoughts.

   “I wanted to tell ya, I just didn’t find the right moment. And I was a little worried you’d have a problem with it. I know you had a thing for that boy back in high school and I didn’t know if you guys had ever been... close, so-“

   “No, no! Back up, Wayne. What?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s not like he ever had to hide the fact that he likes guys – Wayne always knew, always accepted Eddie for all he is. But never, not once, did he mention his stupid infatuation with Steve. There’s no fucking way his uncle knew.

   “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Every single piece of paper lying around your mess of a room had a little heart with Steve’s name on it.”

    Oh, right.

   “Okay, I give you that but why would you think we’ve been like, together? Even you must see how ridiculous that is. Have you looked at the man?”

Eddie bites his tongue before he says something like ‘He’s way too perfect to be with someone like me’. Wayne doesn’t need to know that he’s still got heart eyes for Steve and he already said too much.

   “Yeah, I saw. I also heard how he talked about you. How he got all soft when he talked about all the mischief you were up to in high school. That cost me all my hair by the way, so thanks for that.”

Wayne laughs and Eddie would too, if he wasn’t so confused right now.

   “Whether you knew it or not, that boy liked you. And seeing you two today, I’m pretty sure you still have that in common. You are both so bad at hiding it.”

Their conversation did not mess Eddie up. It didn't, okay? And he's definitely not nervous when he opens the door for Steve and Robbie to come in, right on time for Christmas dinner.

It doesn't make him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin when Steve takes the seat next to him, so close their knees occasionally touch.

And it doesn't cause a full-body shiver when their hands accidentally brush while reaching for the same bread.

It's fine. Everything is fine. Wayne doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing between them. No sparks, no fire, no longing glances. They’re just two small families celebrating Christmas together. Nothing more.

That's why, when Eddie excuses himself to have a smoke outside after dinner, and Steve follows him, he doesn't think much of it.

But of course, reality always comes crashing in. And when Steve huddles closer, stands right next to him, sharing his cigarette like that’s normal, Eddie can’t take it anymore.

   “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, trying hard to control the tremble in his voice.

   “Wayne thought you and I were, you know, a thing in high school. That’s why he didn’t tell me about meeting you.”

Eddie laughs but it sounds fake, and for a long moment, all Steve does is look at him, eyes piercing like they’re trying to see into Eddie’s soul.

   “Mhm, very funny,” he then says but doesn't sound amused at all.

   “No, it really is, because I had the biggest crush on you back then."

Eddie swallows, looks, waits. Doesn't know what for because it feels like anything could happen.

   "Had?" It almost sounds like a tease but Eddie can sense that Steve's nervous.

   "Would it be bad if it was still true?" Eddie asks, unsure of where this is going.

   "Depends.” Steve answers, a tentative smile on his lips, “Would it be bad if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Eddie isn't sure if he's still breathing and if his heart's still beating because the world is spinning too fast and-

His lips are on Steve's, testing, pressing, and there are hands in his hair, and the night becomes day, and everything feels right, feels good, feels like something finally clicks into place.

They kiss until their lungs hurt, kiss some more after a giggle fit. Kiss again until the door opens and Robbie is standing before them with wide eyes.

   "Oh, sh-oot! Hey, baby! Sorry, Eddie and I were just-"

   "Thank you, Santa!" Robbie yells against the sky and Eddie's heart explodes.

The worry on Steve's face makes way for confusion and Eddie feels bad for cheating because contrary to Steve, he's in on Robbie's secret.

   "Grandpa Wayne said to tell you we're having hot chocolate and cookies for dessert."

   "We'll be right there," Eddie answers for Steve, who still seems a little frozen in place.

Once the door closes behind her, Steve releases a shaky breath.

   "That- did not go like I thought it would."

For a moment, Eddie worries Steve's going to take it back. That the shock broke him out of whatever spell he was under.

But Steve kisses him again, before taking his hand to lead them back inside, where Wayne greets them with a smug smile. Eddie can practically hear the 'I told you so' but that's okay.

He's happy Wayne was right.

Happy that a little girl's wish aligned so perfectly with his own.

A Christmas wish come true.

[mvltisstuff]

Eddie Diaz x female reader

Eddie and reader are childhood sweethearts and have been engaged for 4 years with their wedding is in a few months, reader is also a firefighter with the 118 & also maddie’s best friend. Reader is also close friends with Ravi and Buck. Reader is walking home one night alone after collecting food for Chris and Eddie when she gets mugged and attacked and left for dead in an alleyway, she has multiple injuries such as a gunshot or stab wound, dislocated shoulder, dislocated knee, broken arm along with cuts and bruises to her face. Someone finds her and she ends up in the hospital in a coma, eddie has a breakdown in the hospital and Chris also visits reader crying. Reader wakes up and panics about the wedding as she needs physical therapy on her knee that was injured, worried that she won’t be able to walk down the isle to Eddie, she has a panic attack and everything goes wrong. Maddie tries to help her through it. You can decide on the rest. 🩶🩶

sorry this is so long😅🥲

hope you’re doing well and having a great summer ❤️‍🩹🤍 xx

let the light in - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: this request is from quite some time ago, but it’s been in the drafts for too long! i apologize and hope you enjoy <3 also this is not proofread btw 😭

each hit to her body ricocheted through her muscles, feeling the marks and scars form on her skin. it was a foreign feeling, one of fear and pain. y/n was helpless on the ground of the alley, and there was nothing she could do.

her heartbeat thumped in her ears, and she was horrified that she might not even look the same, let alone be the same. she faces things like this every single day, saving someone’s life but she could barely manage to save her own.

she only wanted to bring home food for chris and eddie, her beloved ones who instantly became her family. she was almost like a mother to christopher, and he was connected to her as she was always there for him.

the moment eddie proposed to y/n, he knew that there would be no hesitation. he had never felt this way about a woman before, let alone want to live with her until their hair turned grey. every single part of y/n left eddie enamored, just falling for her all over again. her persistence and attitude was nothing but precious to him, and he couldn’t help but love every part of her.

he waited for her to come home, knowing that she would be stopping at the grocery store. it was late, the sky dark and the streets only illuminated by the street lamps. he knows how tough she is, and she’d be ok. so, he patiently waited at home with his son, the worries in the far back of his head.

as y/n’s body was dragged about and penetrated with sharpness, all she could think about was her fiancé and stepson at home. the two people she loves most in this world. it was so hard not to give up and let these criminals take her life, but she knew neither of them could deal with her life being stripped away.

let alone the 118. bucks been her best friend since day one, being the first supporter of her and eddie’s relationship. he completely adores her and her humor, along with her strong work ethic. ravi has always looked up to her from the moment he stepped into the station on his first day. she assisted him and taught him with kindness, but didn’t go easy on him. she’s the reason that ravi is the firefighter he is, and he idolizes her for that, in and out of work. hen and chimney have been alongside her, running into each building and saving a civilian. she was almost too good to be true, and the people who attacked her had no idea.

the men heard the crumbling of rocks underneath tires, and scurried away into the midnight. y/n was left there to rot, laying on the hard ground and feeling herself bleed out. her entire body was in agony, but it was nothing compared to the thought of losing herself.

her weak fingers traveled to her pockets, taking out her phone with a shattered screen. surprisingly, the group wasn’t smart enough to steal it, and she thanked god for it. her blurry vision was tempting her, minutes away from fading into complete darkness. her mind was shrouded with negativity, but a flicker of hope came in when she heard maddies voice on the other side of the phone.

“maddie.” y/n groans, practically inaudible. maddie freezes at the letters of her name leave this woman’s mouth, being strictly confused but also horrified. “y/n.”

the slightly collection of blood in her mouth made the words jumble together, maddie using every ounce of brain power to put the pieces together.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t-“ the light goes off in maddies brain, finally being able to put the letters together, forming y/n’s name. “y/n?” she hears a painful groan of agreement from the muffled earpiece. “can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“they tried to kill me,” y/n informs her, slowing her breathing but it only makes her head spin faster. her eyes are closed, fighting the unconsciousness that’s begging to take over. “maddie, i’m not gonna be able to stay awake, but… i-i’m somewhere near the interchange.”

“y/n, honey, you have to try and stay awake for me, okay?” maddie begs, her eyes filling with moisture as she hears y/n’s small voice come through the phone in stutters. “y/n?” the phone lands over her torso, beginning to be stained with blood as y/n’s mind is shrouded in black, unable to process anything any longer.

eddie sat in the living room with christopher, watching a show for chris to practice his spanish. they were both invested in the plot, but also trying to expose christopher to the language.

eddie adored nights like this with his son. christopher is his sun, and his world revolves around him. he protects christopher with every ounce of his being, and there’s not a moment where he regrets any of it. the room was dimmed, the wick of the candle radiating a sweet smell as the words on the tv came through.

there was excitement in his mind as well, knowing y/n would be home soon to greet them. her alluring smile would be seen the moment she stepped in the door, and her bewitching voice became music to the boys. instead, when he heard others car doors slam, he was confronted with silence from his front door afterwards.

the next 15 minutes passed slowly but surely, and there were no signs of y/n coming home. he checked his phone only to find no messages or calls. his thoughts began to run through everything that could’ve happened, and he attempted to focus on the brighter ones. he finally heard the knock on the door, the pounding coming off assertive. somehow, he still wanted to find optimism and it could’ve been y/n.

when the door swung open, a burly man who was slightly taller than eddie stood in front of him. he had on a jacket with the LAPD, and eddie’s heart fell at the look on his face. it was blank on the outside, but eddie could tell he was here to deliver something horrid. he listened as the officer deeply uttered his first and last name, christopher lifting his head to the door at the unfamiliar voice.

in this line of work, eddie knew exactly why the man was here. “where is she?” eddie’s voice crackles, showing weakness when he’s so used to being strong.

the ride to the hospital was silent, deafening silence that only turned up the volume on eddie’s fears. the chugged through his head like a train on tracks, and he could barely see straight. he had absolutely no idea what to expect, only knowing that his girl was in the hospital. for all he could know, she could be wide awake or she could be in the morgue.

it felt like someone had grasped his heart, restricting him from breathing as he saw the almost empty waiting room. he desperately looked for anyone, finally landing his eyes on maddie.

“maddie!” he shouts, stomping over to her in anxiety. “what the hell happened?”

“i got a call,” maddie told him, her voice shaky and uncertain. “i could barely even tell who it was -her voice was so different- she told me that they tried to… they tried to kill her.” maddie mumbles the last part out, not wanting to imagine her closest friend’s life being taken.

the room started becoming blurry, all sights and sounds around eddie becoming irrelevant. it felt like he was the only person in the room, and someone from above was pointing and laughing at him. it was like a gunshot, being thrown back at the sudden force, or in this case, the sudden news that someone had attempted murder on y/n.

“i called buck, he’s on his way,” maddie says, fidgeting with her hands as she looks into eddie’s distant eyes. “eddie, sit down-“

“what room is she in?”

“i don’t know if you want to see her like this so fa-“

“maddie, i love you like a sister, but if you don’t tell me what room she’s in, i swear…”

“she’s in 319,” and that was the last thing eddie heard before taking wide steps through the hallways, his feet swiftly carrying him through the hospital as he eyes the door numbers. 316, 317, 318, and the one that held y/n inside. he prepared himself for the worst, but nothing could compare to actually seeing it.

each cut on her face was surrounded by a thick bruise disguising her angelic features. her soft, welcoming expression was replaced with discomfort and tightness. her eyes were tired and screwed shut, begging to remain closed and her lips were tightly coiled around the thick tube down her throat. the mechanical breaths pumped through her body, and eddie only hurt himself more with every step he took to her room.

she heard the thumping of footsteps down the hall, and prayed that it was eddie on his way to save her. she wanted him to just pick her up and they could run away, live their life and forget about all that happened that evening. she wanted to smile, but the look on his face was only disappointing.

his face looked as if someone had landed a punch to his gut, leaving his stomach dropping and shakiness building through his hands. he could barely figure out the words to say. his beautiful girl, the one he lays with at night and the one who kisses him with her soft lips. the one who he cries to and laughs with, and someone tried to steal it.

she had a long, white cast over her leg, being slightly elevated in the bed. he could see the bandages all over her body, and the thick wrap of gauze around her belly. he didn’t have any idea what to say, and it brought eddie back to the former years.

before he and y/n dated, shannon had passed away as eddie watched the life leave her eyes. he felt everything, the guilt, the grief, the anger. it took too long for things to return, but he never, ever wanted to experience that again. he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t manage to push through losing y/n.

y/n wanted to move so bad, she used all fibers of her muscles to try and bring herself up to meet eddie, but she was only met with his frozen figure staring down at her own. someone had put chains on her body, restricting her from moving or speaking, let alone open her eyes. she wanted to be caught while she was falling, but was just left dangling in the air without a hand to grab onto. just by the aura eddie reflects, she knew he was there.

he stepped closer, running his smooth fingers down her rough wounds, brushing her silky hair down. the hissing of her intubation flooded the silent room, realizing that it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

the door had remained open, the doctor entering the room and knocking on the open door. he stepped out and stood in front of the bed, carrying binders and charts in his arms. he looked through them, explaining each familiar term to eddie as he went down the list of y/n’s injuries. the doctor knew eddie well, him returning to the hospital to drop off a patient, or god forbid a patient himself. he let eddie sit alone next to her in the room, watching the very small movements of her chest.

the next person came rushing in, much faster than the doctor had. buck swung the door open, maddie trailing behind him in hesitation to see her friend like this.

“jesus,” buck whispers under his breath, stepping closer to eddie who’s elbows kneel on his knees. “you holding up?”

“i’m fine,” eddie tells his friend, fully aware he’s far from it. his eyes wander down to the ring in maddies hand, the one eddie remembers shining in the little box. it’s been years, but with their schedules, they could never find a date. they found their perfect venue and time, and y/n was so excited. now, it was questioned whether or not she would even make it to their wedding.

“i’ll call her family and take care of stuff for her and work,” buck assists, patting eddie’s shoulder before moving back out of the room with his cell phone. maddie takes this opportunity to step closer to eddie, and try to touch his heart to help ease the pain.

“you need to eat, or walk for a bit, eddie.” maddie tells him, lightly throwing her arms up and receiving zero glances from him. when she notices the distance in his eyes, she knows exactly what he needs. “eddie!”

he perks up, looking into maddies soothing eyes and seeing her begin to walk toward the door. “she’ll be ok for a minute, please just come with me.” she pleads, finally achieving to get eddie out of the uncomfortable hospital chair.

eddie follows maddie through the halls like he’s just a kid, letting his mother lead him through. it was a strange feeling, one that was out of his control. the control that he’s so used to having. maddie sauntered casually through the thick white walls and metal stretchers in the halls. she looked up and down the stretch of area, seeing no nurses or doctors. she swung open the storage closet, yanking eddie in and standing in front of the door. she leaned against it, looking into eddie’s exhausted eyes. they were so close to breaking, and maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“it’s ok to let yourself take a break.” maddie says to eddie, watching him place his hands on his hips and allow his tired eyes to well up. “do whatever you have to. scream, cry, lay on the ground, throw those lap pads. it’s clear as day that you’re about to fall apart and you can’t carry this weight and be there for her at the same time.”

he spun around, spitting out a dry chuckle and losing the eye contact. he couldn’t face it, he couldn’t handle someone watching him look so weak. however, when maddie turned around, he knew that she was safe, and that he was too.

first, his breathing starts to pick up along with the sharp burning in his nostrils. it was as if the gears of an attack started turning, and eddie knew now that there was nothing to stop them.

his hands began to shake, messily frizzing his gelled hair as his fingers ran through it. his already tightened chest had began to feel like it was being crushed, and someone was wrapping their strong fingers around his heart.

the tears started coming in constant streams down his cheeks, leaving shiny residue on the soft skin. he tasted the salty cries on his lips whenever he took a deep inhale. with a strange sensation, there’s a feeling of lightness throughout his body. he knows too well that y/n remains helpless in the other room, but he also knows that he can’t control it.

in such a simply way, eddie cries. he cries for his son, who he knows is going to be completely shredded by the news of y/n’s condition. he cries for her parents, thinking about someone’s little girl in that bed. he cries for himself, watching his beloved fiancé lose herself. of course, he cries for y/n and how everything she loves has vanished due to the villains in this world.

when maddie turns back around, eddie is hunched over with his head in his hands. his fingers aggressively swipe at his eyes and cheeks, trying to rid any signs of upset in his face. maddie gives him the smallest, but the most reassuring smile that he’s gotten in a while. she opens the door, stepping out and they both walk back to y/n’s room.

eddie didn’t want christopher to see y/n so vulnerable like this. y/n had been a role model to chris since the day he met her, becoming an instant prized person in his life. christopher knew y/n was hurt, buck being the one to break the news as eddie physically couldn’t form the words. a few days had passed, and christopher still had not seen y/n, or barely even known what happened. someone did something bad, and that’s the only thing he could handle hearing.

christopher begged to see y/n to his dad, who tried to hide the situation from him as long as possible. he allowed eventually, becoming aware of the unfairness, and that christopher deserves to see favorite person, too.

buck walked into the doors with christopher, eddie meeting them at the front. eddie had become more accustomed to the sight of y/n on the bed, and her limp figure resting silently. he couldn’t help but let out a cheesy grin at his son, seeing him excitedly walk in to see y/n.

“dad!” he shouts, stepping closer to eddie who then embraces him.

“hey, chris!” he replies, thrilled to see his boy after the past few days from hell.

“is y/n better yet?” he asks, and the naivety almost breaks eddie.

“uh, not yet, buddy,” eddie mumbles. “she’s still sleeping.”

“can i please see her?”

“you can, of course, but christopher,” eddie kneels down to match his height, placing his hands on christopher’s sides. “i want you to know that she doesn’t look normal right now. it’s okay to be scared.”

“are you scared?”

eddie looks at the ground, not wanting his son to see him in his moment of weakness. he looks at buck, who wears the matching expression of glumness on his face. “yeah, i am. but, it’s going to be ok.” he takes christopher to the room, greeting everyone else who came to visit her.

hen leans against the wall of the room, toward the end of her bed. chim sits against the window, a grimace formed on his lips. ravi had come to visit, only being able to watch y/n on the small mattress. bobby watched, painfully, from the corner as well. athena had stopped by, but she was still on duty and had to leave.

christopher walked in, stepping up toward the bed and seeing a smile form on everyone’s face. they adore him, but he doesn’t understand how they can smile right now. “can she hear me?”

“i think she can,” hen replies, giving another grieving, but comforting expression

“y/n,” he begins. “i know you’re really hurt, but we all need you to come back. it’s not your fault, but you have to come back to us, and dad. everyone is here for you, and we all love you. you’ve always taken care of me, and i need you. you can’t let the bad guys win.”

eddie leans against the doorframe, his hand over his mouth and tears sprinting back down his face. he attempts to choke back the audible sobs, but the silent weeping in the corner almost felt worse.

the days passed, slow and agonizing days of seeing her only linear condition. it felt like nothing was going anywhere, until the doctors came in to check her on the week mark.

“her brain function is looking pretty good, it’s honestly best that the coma saved some of it. her heart rate looks extraordinary, and her white blood cell count is good, mr. diaz.”

the good news comes light as a feather to eddie, barely touching the optimism in his head. he knows he should be happy, but until he sees that beautiful face that he calls his awake and alert, nothing will be the same. he knew he should be grateful that she’s even breathing, but what he would give to be able to bring her back to the surface and hold his hand.

as much as it stung his heart, life continued without y/n’s consciousness. he had a child who had needs, a family who had needs, the person inside of him that also had needs. he was too smart to know that he was destroying himself every minute that he spent next to her brittle body. maddie swore to spend every second with her that eddie couldn’t be.

she sat besides her, spoke to her, told her stories and read her books. maddie always let y/n cry on her shoulder, now it was maddie weeping on her bedside. hours ticked by on the shiny hospital clocks, and the sun crept down and dimmed the sky along with the room. maddies eyes were pushed with weight, her own sleepiness covering her thoughts. she allowed herself to slump back on the chair, pulling her legs up and her breathing began to shallow, lulling herself to sleep.

the next time she awoke was around six in the morning, the morning sky slowly being illuminated by the orange sunrise. the light outside was glorious, the painting on the horizon better than any artist could create. the swift streaks of clouds only simply covered the sliver of sun peeking out.

when maddie stretched out her arms, she smiled at the warm colors outside the big glass window, she searched around the room, noticing the soft sound of fabric shuffling on the bed.

it was almost like a ghost had appeared and laid in the bed, moving itself around over the sheets. maddie directed her eyes closer, seeing y/n’s fragile fingers twitch and run over the smooth bed.

“y/n?” maddie asks, her voice still weak from her slumber. she begins to sit up, faster than before, to examine y/n’s face. there’s a brighter color to her features, her cheeks became more pigmented and she looked more full. she didn’t just look like another body in the hospital, waiting for her heart to give up on itself.

the more words that left maddie’s mouth, the more flickering she saw on y/n’s face. her heart was pounding against her chest, feeling the anxiety rise through her spine. “hey, y/n.” she whispers, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand. after a few moments that felt like centuries, y/n’s eyelashes fluttered a bit, and her red, tired irises were finally revealed again.

eddie was laying on the couch, unable to sleep in the bed that once held the couple together. it felt eerily cold without her, his hand subconsciously floating over to run a hand over her back, only to be confronted with the chilly satin. he never wanted to leave y/n, but he also know that she would never want him to fall apart in the hospital watching her. he so badly wanted his eyes to finally shut, being able to give him even an hour of rest. someone had their fingers holding open his eyes, painting horrible images in his mind.

he turned on his back, his arm behind his head and staring into the bumpy, popcorn ceilings of his home. the home he shares with his son and his fiancée, the two people he cherishes the most. now, it was filled with darkness and loss and he prayed that he could get it back.

something grabbed ahold of his mind, halting his thoughts with the blaring noise of his ringtone. when he saw the ID of maddie illuminate his phone, he thought of the worst. either y/n was dead, and he never gets to see her again, or nothing has changed, and there is only more of an agonizing wait.

“eddie, you should get here,” was all he needed to hear over the phone before he roused christopher, dropping him off to get more rest at his tías, and eddie continued to speed over to the hospital.

the tube was gone. it was replaced with a skinnier cord, only pushing air into her through her lungs. her face, still bruised and scraped, but so alive. her eyes shined through the room, meeting eddie’s with a slight upturn of her lip. she was laying on her side with her hand under her cheek. the dark bags under her eyes were clear, but practically matching with eddie’s.

the moment he walked into that room and saw her, his rapid heartbeat began to slow, leaving a dropping sensation in his chest. he scurried over, not being able to stop himself from placing a long kiss on her lips, the ones that had just almost been taken from him.

“i am so, so sorry, mi vida, i wish i were here when you woke up,” he cries, tears welling up in his eyes.

“but you’re here now,” she rasps out, trying to lose the discomfort in her voice. “you’ve been here the whole time for me.”

“don’t ever leave me like that again,” he sighs, pressing his forehead against her own, letting her wired hand be placed on his cheek.

“i wasn’t scared of them,” y/n tells him. “i was scared that they’d take you away from me. i don’t ever want to leave you in the dust like i did last night.”

“last week, honey,” eddie grins with a bit of pity on his voice.

“oh, yeah,” she chuckles a bit, but afterwards grimacing at the pain in her abdomen.

“you should go to sleep, get some real rest this time.”

“i just slept for like, 160 hours, eddie.”

“i know, baby, but you still need to let yourself heal.” she smiles up at him, silently thanking him for his gentleness and tranquility. she nods, as he steps out to see the doctor. maddie returns back in, clutching her purse by her side and smiling her gorgeous maddie beam.

“hi again,” y/n smiles, seeing her best friend walk into the room once more.

maddie carefully walks in, placing her bag down and hugging y/n’s laying figure. “how are you feeling?”

“physically, a bit better,” y/n says.

“but what about the y/n i love. how is she doing in there?”

y/n pauses, all the thoughts rushing back through her head. every sentence screams through her ears, wanting to push itself to the front of her mind. every worry, every fear comes clean to the surface.

“maddie, i don’t know what to do,” her eyes begin to water, and her voice starts to tremble along with her hands. “we’ve been trying to plan this wedding for so long, and those men just took it all away from me. how am i supposed to just move on from that? i’m never going to be able to be the same after that. and eddie,” she sighs, pushing a long exhale out through her mouth. “i feel like i completely destroyed him with this. and now, i have to go to PT and i can’t even walk down the isle by myself! one of these days he’s gonna realize that i’m not worth anything anymore. i’m horrified that every day he has to take care of me, is just one part of him that doesn’t want me anymore.”

her breathing picks up, maddie trying to ease her but ultimately not being able to with just a simple touch. she looks at eddie, still focused on the doctor.

“listen, y/n/n,” maddie begins. “that gang took so much from you, but you have so many people on your side. they lost, you won. and with eddie, he would bleed himself dry if it meant you came home with him. every single breath you take is worth a million dollars to him. you are the most, fighter bitch i’ve ever met, and if anyone’s going to bounce back from this, it’s you. the moment you two kiss on that one night, all this worrying will be for nothing. he is your soldier, and he’ll never leave you. he would fight the gods if it meant he could keep you next to him every night.”

the tears fall onto her pillowcase, leaving several dark patches besides her face. eddie turns back around, letting himself back into to room only to see the upset written all over y/n’s face.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, the sweetness in the delivery of his words. maddie looks up at him, her eyebrows tilting up together in a sadness for her friend. sharp inhales and gasps come through y/n’s body, using her shaking hand to wipe the wet tears from her cheeks. “you’re ok, baby, i got you.” he tells her, sitting besides her on the bed and caressing her side. maddie kisses her cheek, stepping out of the room to leave the engaged pair alone.

“i never want to be away from you again,” she sobs. “promise me you’ll never leave me, and i promise i’ll always love you.”

“i’ll make this promise to you until the day we grow grey hair, or the day you don’t remember me anymore. i’ll promise you this every single day. i mean it when i say i love you more than anything.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

DO YOU WANNA BE FRIENDS? (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie really hates being on bar. Especially during morning rush. When you not only notice his impending breakdown, but do something about it, he realizes that the two of you might be capable of being more than just coworkers.

warnings: ONE use of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), description of being overstimulated/extremely anxious

wc: 4.5k

a/n: shoutout to all the friends that let me make them fellow victims of the siren <3 also thank you to everyone who showed love the first one shot! i didn't expect that at all so it means the world. hopefully with this part, it makes more sense what i meant by little slices of life! the masterlist will always have the individual one shots listed chronologically.

the full menu

Bar was Eddie’s own personal Hell when he first started. It was chaotic, it was fast paced, and it was simply too much to deal with first thing in the morning (especially on the sparse few hours of sleep he functioned off of). 

He was much better put to use on DTO. Taking orders, stalling perfectly so that whoever was on food could get a jump start, cracking plenty of jokes all while still always perfectly reciting back the customer’s drinks. He thrived on DTO. Even when he would be assigned to “one-manning” drive, which simply meant he handled both taking orders and handing them out the window, he was clearly one of the best.

Nicole knew this. Meg knew this. All the shifts knew this — except the newest shift, Gale, apparently.

Because this morning, a major fuck up had occurred. 

Gale was going over his floor plan for the peak rush, explaining who would be in which position, and Eddie knew something was up the moment you shot him a concerned look from across the room. Initially, it was actually funny, the way your eyes so quickly found his and your nose scrunched microscopically. But by the time Gale had made his rounds to Eddie, he understood that the reaction you’d given him the privilege to witness had not been just something cute – it had been a siren going off from across the store, your attempt to forewarn him of the impending chaos and doom. 

Since that first opening, Eddie has been lucky. Just as he had hoped for, that morning wasn’t the last time he saw you. In fact, he sees so much of you on a weekly basis, he’s sure the Universe is playing a sick joke. It was bound to happen; there’s only so many people who are willingly to be openers (for obvious reasons), and you were one of those brave soldiers. He took Nicole’s advice to heart, he decided to let you slip into pace beside him on the front lines, and he’d been reaping the benefits. 

You’re kind, you’re funny, you make the time pass. You make Eddie feel like the two of you might be friends, or at least could be. And it wasn’t the fake kind of niceties that some of the other baristas would extend only from the moment they clocked in to the moment they clocked out. Your sweetness towards him lasted long past being on the clock. In the parking lot in the early mornings, in the lobby after your shift as the two of you solicited just to get a few more jokes in with Nicole. You’d wait for him and walk out to his car with him. You learned how he likes his coffee, and sometimes made him his preferred drink amidst your opening tasks, only handing it over with a smile and charming, “Drink up, Munson. You’re gonna need it to keep up with me today.” 

God, he fucking liked you. 

A month of openings all tallied up to this moment now, in which you’d just opened him up to the possibility of private, silent conversations in a crowded room. He’d never been on the receiving end of that before. Usually, he was the outsider as glances in a secret language were exchanged. 

Not anymore. Not now that you had your sights set on him. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Gale approaches him slowly, a friendly enough smile on his face. He’d transferred here from another store a few weeks ago, “So, game plan for today’s peak.”

The words lay it on me are on the tip of Eddie’s tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth instead. He wasn’t that quick on his toes with most people at work. Half the time, he’s lucky he’s managed any banter with you. 

Blandly, Gale explains how Marissa will be on cafe bar. “And then, I’m going to put myself over on front and warming, try to keep myself flexible for you guys. I’ll have you, Y/N, and Ash run drive today.” 

Eddie pales a little, and just as your eyes had immediately sought out his, he’s looking right over Gale’s shoulder to find you peeking out from around the corner, already in position. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Gale is oblivious to Eddie’s nerves, “I’ll have you bar, she’ll be your DTO. It’ll be great, you guys are going to kill it.” 

The only thing dying will be our drive times. 

Gale leaves with a quick, encouraging smack to Eddie’s shoulder, telling him to go ahead and head over to the small nook that’s designated for the drive thru as he ‘splits the bars’ – changing the system so that tickets for cafe and mobile orders will expel out from the printer that sits atop the bar facing the front of the store, while any drive thru orders print on the bar hidden there. 

Eddie is in his own personal Hell. Actually, he’s in his own worst conundrum. 

On one hand, he’s thrilled to be able to spend the day in this corner with you. Plenty of times, Nicole will assign you to bar and Eddie to take orders or greet customers on the window, and it’s wonderful. Forced proximity due to the set up of the store, easy conversation during lulls, and abundance of inside jokes shouted between customers. He loves it. But he only loves it because he’s not the one busting out those drinks, already starting on the next iced caramel macchiato as the customer at the speaker box has hardly finished announcing it as their drink of choice. He loves seeing you in your element; you’re quick, fast and always on your own rhythm that keeps those damn drive times that corporate care about so much under a minute. Eddie could never do that – he could never average thirty second wait times, especially when so many customers order so many drinks. 

Today is not his ideal situation. He will be the one trying to juggle all those drinks, trying to find a pace that works for both him and the customers and fucking corporate. 

“You good?” you whisper the moment he steps up around the corner and up to the bar, turning and facing you. Your mirror images of one another – both of you have your lower backs pressed to sticky counters, leaning with arms crossed and already looking defeated before the rush has even begun. 

“I’m gonna fuck it all up,” he blurts out quietly, the girl who will be on window - Ashleigh, Ash for short – not quite joining you two in the corner yet. “Our times are going to suck so badly.” 

If it were anyone else, he would have just shrugged the question off. He would have smiled politely. But it’s you, still bleeding sunshine even after being back from vacation for a full month, and still offering him a reassuring smile even as his pessimism hangs around the space like a dark cloud. 

“Fuck the times,” you immediately say, and he laughs a little, eyes widening in shock at how serious you look right now, “You know what? I think our store has been doing a little too good. I’ve always wanted to see if we could get it up to a five minute window time. Are you down to test my theory today?” 

He can’t help but fully throw his head back at that, smile wide, no laughter audibly escaping him but he can feel it fizzing in his chest. He used to hate that, especially during his first shift with you – the way you could seemingly make him feel so much better about this entire situation. Now he’s just grateful. If he has to stand on the deck of a sinking ship on this terrible Tuesday morning, he’s so glad he’s going down with you. 

It’s the worst moment for Ash to appear between the two of you, looking wildly confused as she asks, “Did you just say five minute window times?” 

You throw your head back, and the laugh that leaves you is the prettiest sound Eddie has ever heard. The fizzling chuckles in his chest burst, and Ash only looks at the two of you as if you were certifiably insane. 

Oh, yeah. He’s very glad that this is the ship he will go down in. 

—

Famous last words. Not even an hour into peak, Eddie is biting down on every positive thought you had fooled him into entertaining. His jaw aches with both stress and regret as his knuckles sting from burning himself again with the steam wand. Honestly, he thinks he burnt himself less his first time on warming, and he still has a scar on his pinky from those damned ovens. 

“We’re just waiting on a-” Ash starts to say to him when she turns and lets the window close, effectively sealing them off from the customer. 

“A grande hot americano, I know,” Eddie cuts her off. He didn’t mean to snap, but his irritation is getting the better of him. An impending meltdown is already crawling beneath his skin due to overstimulation and stress. 

Yeah, he really hates bar. 

When the newest green bean meekly adds on, “With cream and two sugar,” Eddie prepares himself to scream into oblivion. 

Until you interfere. 

He’s just taken his first breath, shallow and vapid as he glares at Ash, when one of your hands comes down on his shoulder, the other carefully slipping the cup that only needs to have hot water added to it from  his grasp and into yours. 

“I can finish this off for you,” you sweetly insist, leaning forward so that your face fills the minimal space between him and Ash, “That okay?”

Something flashes in your eyes. It isn’t the same look any of your other coworkers send him when he’s falling behind, when he feels like he’s drowning in this position. It doesn’t feel as though you’re insisting on finishing the drink out of impatience, a desperate last call to speed Eddie along like some sort of machine, but instead as though you’re genuinely trying to help him. 

And your hand. It’s still on his shoulder, curling carefully as he finally can feel the way your thumb is sweeping back and forth over his shoulder blade. Such a soothing motion, it nearly makes him cry. Between your thumb and hand, your gentle eyes, your sweet perfume that cuts through the nauseating smell of coffee – all of it makes him just want to throw in the towel, step off the bar, and let you hug him while he’s a giant crybaby. He knows you’re the only one here who wouldn’t judge him. He’s witnessed first hand several other coworkers do almost exactly that, as a matter of fact. 

He was still secretly jealous of your coworker Sam and the day that she’d been on the verge of her own breakdown, still had the image of the way you’d softened when you caught sight of her genuine tears and just pulled her into your arms. 

He swears he isn’t down bad as some of the kids would call it. He wasn’t special – everyone wanted hugs from you. 

“That’s fine,” he answers after far too many precious seconds have slipped away between you two, the customer at the window momentarily forgotten. His voice is thick with emotion and he has to blink several times just to eat away at that impending breakdown once more. 

Just make it another few hours. Another few hours, and you can scream and cry all you want in the van. You can lose your damn mind if you so please, if you make it another few hours.

He has to remind himself of this over and over as he lets you finish off that fucking americano, and he takes a few consecutive stickers of nothing but frappucinos. He doesn’t even know the time, but it might be better that way. 

He doesn’t even realize the way you’re still watching him so carefully, and so full of concern. 

Suddenly, though, your voice sounds over the headsets — this time, without a car at the speaker box. You’ve clicked for the private channel, meant just for communication between any of the baristas wearing a headset.

“Hey, Gale?” you sweetly say. 

Eddie finishes the drink he’s working on with shaking hands.

Gale takes several seconds until he finally answers you from where he is in the back, “What’s up?”

“Can we switch up the floor a little bit?” Eddie’s stomach twists immediately, the burn of betrayal causing his shoulders to tense without facing you. Cool. Great. She noticed. She’s doing something about it. She’s about to throw me under the bus. Whatever. “I’m getting tired of DTO, starting to kind of stutter and I can’t hear the customers clearly anymore because my brain is melted.” 

That he didn’t expect. It’s subtle, and a little white lie. You hadn’t been stuttering. Any mishearings were laughed off easily. You were constantly buying Eddie more time to get a head start on the drinks.

You weren’t requesting a switch for your sake.

Gale sighs over the channel, mumbling your name before saying, “It’s the middle of peak, we can’t-“

“What if me and Eddie just switch?” he finally turns to face you at your suggestion. You’re not quite looking at him with pity, but understanding. You’d been there before — overwhelmed and panicked on bar, left out to sea without anyone to throw you an anchor. And you could recognize an anxiety attack from a mile away. “The customers always like him better anyways. And he has better suggestions for drinks-“ 

You’re blatantly lying. You knew Eddie was more comfortable on DTO. You knew he could handle that, even on his bad days. He almost gives in to his urge to hug you out of sheer relief.

“I- Fine. Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Once Gale agrees, you’re instantly logging out of your partner number and sweeping your arm out dramatically for Eddie to take your place at the order screen with a small smile. He moves forward slowly, finally feeling like he can breathe as you walk up to the bar. 

You didn’t need a break from DTO. You’d thrown yourself under the bus to offer him some relief. 

Wordlessly, the two of you transition into your new positions, and it immediately becomes obvious that it was more ideal. You barrel through drinks all while wearing a smile, and although Eddie stays a bit reserved in his interactions with customers as his anxiety settles, he still shows off all his strong suits. Stalling customers with idle chat, lying about checking to see if something was in stock so you could pull extra shots, repeating back drinks multiple times to make sure you heard it correctly. 

It’s seamless. The times that corporate cares about dwindle down to better match the day’s goal, and Eddie’s chest finally loosens. 

You didn’t have to do that. Anyone else wouldn’t have done that.

When the rush has finally passed, both you and Eddie finally in the final stretch of an hour until your shifts end, he finds the nerve to bring it up.

You’re wiping down counters, humming under your breath, when he clears his throat awkwardly, “Uh, thank you. For earlier.” 

“Why are you thanking me?” you ask nonchalantly, shrugging as you stop pretending to be busy, “I really was tired of DTO-“ 

“No, you weren’t,” he stops you from defending your lie, “You… you’re amazing at DTO. Better than me by a landslide.” 

Your entire expression softens from that constant joy and constant reassurance. But the glow of your kindness doesn’t erase with the relaxing of your cheeks. If anything, it simmers and only reaches Eddie even more potently.

You relay your next words with careful consideration, “I’m really not, Eddie. It’s not a competition. I.. do enjoy DTO, but you were stressed. And Gale wasn’t about to change his floor without someone saying something.” 

“If it had been anyone else, they would have told me to suck it up,” he points out.

“But it wasn’t anyone else. It was me, and I don’t think any of us should have to spend our shifts suffering.” 

You leave off a very important detail that you aren’t quite ready for Eddie to be privy to yet — if it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have caved so quickly. You actually probably also would have told anyone else to suck it up, albeit still in a light-hearted and encouraging tone. You would have offered extra help, you would have tried to make jokes to ease the anxiety, but you wouldn’t have just thrown yourself under the bus. 

And yet, when it comes to him, you find yourself going soft. Any affirmativeness that you use during your training, that you usually persist with having with new hires, has melted. 

You hated seeing him so stressed. 

“You know,” Eddie’s nervous to say his next words, but they’re true, “You’re probably my favorite coworker.” 

Your smile is back, radiant and comforting. Eddie’s pride swells that it was his hand that ignited that bit of flame back into you. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You’re like a child, looking down bashfully and fiddling with the edges of your apron. He’s sure that any second now, you might start swaying side to side, that your pupils might form into absolute hearts. You visualize exactly how it feels every time he sees that yellow Jeep parked in the lot. 

You bite your lip to break from your shy spell, leaning towards him with a summer glint to your eyes, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m starting to think you’re my favorite too, Munson.” 

A conglomeration of the past month – it feels as though it all comes to a rise in this moment, hitting an unimaginable peak, and he isn’t scared of a sudden drop. There will be no veering or falling down from these heights, no sudden lack of friendliness. He knows it surely the longer he stares into your eyes. If anything, maybe this is actually just a beginning. 

“Yeah, sure,” he snorts, unable to contain himself, “I doubt that, Sunshine.” 

The nickname slips out without much thought, but he doesn’t even have time to panic – your grin is painfully wide as you lift a brow. “Wanna bet?”

“Never took you as a gambler.”

“John rubbed off on me.” 

He twists his face, holding back any sexual innuendos, and that’s when it happens. Your mouth falls open, realizing the dirty joke he’s biting down on, and you gasp dramatically. Your hand flies out without second thought, smacking him on his shoulder. 

A smack. That’s what breaks the seal between the two of you. A joking smack on the shoulder at a crude innuendo, and suddenly the unspoken and terribly awkward boundary that should always exist between coworkers is shattered. 

“I lied,” you try to deadpan, but you can’t stop smiling at Eddie’s withheld laughter, “Oh my God, fuck you. That’s gross! You’re officially my least favorite coworker.”

“Yeah, but I bet John’s your favorite customer, right?” 

He’s able to block your second attempt at a slap this time, now close enough that he smells your perfume and sweet shampoo. Smells whatever lotion you use, that lingering and stubborn fragrant chai syrup that’s dried on your arms. You’re giggling shamelessly as you wrestle your wrist out of his grip. He swears, if you’d let him, his fingertips would stay pressed there on your pulse until the two of you conjoined in some twisted way. Like overgrown roots taking back control of abandoned buildings, you’d wrap around him and his ridiculous insinuations. He’d die a happy man. He’s already about to die a happy man as he feels your heart racing, and he almost convinces himself that you feel it too. 

God, Eddie really liked you. He doesn’t care anymore, he’s willing to admit it to himself at the very least. He fucking likes you. He’d be a fool not to. 

His fingers are still wrapped around soft skin when suddenly, Gale rounds the corner, and clears his throat. 

“I, um-” his eyes zero in on the space left behind as Eddie drops your wrist, and you’re quick to tuck it behind your back. It’s as if the two of you are children who have been caught doing something you shouldn’t have been. Eddie shoves his own burning fingertips into the pocket of his apron, “I just wanted to say you guys did good today. It’s- uh, you’re both off. So… yeah. Um, good job today.” 

Eddie gets second hand embarrassment from Gale’s stuttering, but you look like you might burst into laughter at any moment. Not teasing chuckles or cruel mockery, but the kind of laughter that occurs when two friends are in trouble, and they avoid each other’s gazes during their scolding in the fear of laughing at an inopportune moment. 

You won’t look his way. It’s exactly that. 

“Thanks,” Eddie forces out, seemingly satisfying Gale as he just nods and scurries off. 

Once you two are left alone in the corner again, you finally look at him and burst into that building laughter. 

Sunshine is fitting for you, he decides, as your laughter fills his lungs with the sun and more. 

—

“So, you don’t live near the store?” you ask, scrunching up your nose cutely as you walk side by side with Eddie across the parking lot towards your cars. Both of you had been eager to get out of the store after Gale’s fiddly dismissal. 

Eddie shakes his head, pulling the straw of his free drink from his mouth, “Nah, twenty minutes out.” 

He’d gotten a caramel frappuccino, emphasis on a blasphemous amount of drizzle, and Ash had nearly castrated him with a glare as she had bustled away on bar. You’d only snorted under your breath and asked for a water. 

“Really?” you stop dead in your tracks, in the center of the parking lot. Eddie can’t lie – it makes him nervous. If any of the usual asshole drivers that usually speed through here decided to arrive, they’d hit you. He has half the mind to reach out and grab your hand, to tug you over to the safe space between the two of your cars, “No way – I live twenty minutes away.” 

He swears his stomach falls to the pavement below, “You live in Hawkins?” 

No. It can’t be possible. He refuses to believe that you could live so close, that you would have been residing so near him this entire time and it took a miserable opening job at some out-of-the-way coffeeshop for him to meet you. You cannot be in Hawkins. Not fucking possible.

“Oh, no,” you shake your head, finally walking over to that space Eddie had deemed safe. The shade from your Jeep stretches only about half way to his van as the sun gets closer to settling into the center of the sky, “Opposite direction.”

“Damn.” 

He can’t help the disappointment; yes, his stomach had dropped at the prospect of having spent years already circling around meeting you, but it’s his heart that sinks as you reveal the actual distance between the two of you. 

At least this means you don’t know anything about his reputation in his hometown. 

“That would’ve been cool, though, right?” you stop and turn to him, kicking as a few of the pebbles on the ground, “If I just so happened to live, like, next door to you or something.”

It would have been Eddie’s innocent crush’s dream come true. To find out his sunny coworker was also his goddamn neighbor.

“Yeah,” he tries to hide his disappointment, continuing on with a shrug, “But if we’re gonna be neighbors, it’s probably better that I live next door to you.” 

You look up at him questioning, “Can I… ask why?” 

“I live in a trailer park.” 

He shouldn’t be handing this information over so easily. He’s one step away from dumping all his childhood traumas onto you. 

And he knows that the others joke that it’s normal, and that there've been many heartfelt conversations on the floor between rushes. But something about this feels more personal – it doesn’t feel like two coworkers just comparing old wounds or exchanging living situations. It feels like two friends just getting to know each other. 

He never would have admitted that to anyone else that works with the two of you. 

You don’t even react, just shrugging as he had to brush off his disappointment. There’s no pity, no disgust. No judgment. It’s just a new piece of the puzzle that is Eddie. 

“Fair enough,” you settle on replying before it looks as if you’ve had a sudden revelation. Eddie swears he sees the lightbulb go off over your head, “You know, no one else knows where I live.”

He finds that hard to believe. They all adore you too much, surely your coworkers would be fumbling over themselves to find out as much about you as they can.

“Really?”

“Really. No one’s ever asked me. And it’s… never really come up.” 

Something about holding this rare piece of information about you makes Eddie want to jump for joy. He wants to hold it close to his chest, tuck it away for safe keepings. He doesn’t really know why. 

But he’s on his way to figuring it out as he says, “I guess it’s not something coworkers really talk about, huh? Probably more friends territory.” 

A slight fib, because plenty of the other baristas have overshared that type of information. The ones that talk too much, that never seem to take a breath or leave a space for people like yourself or Eddie to really insert yourselves into the conversations.

He’d noticed that. You talk quite a bit too, but never about yourself. Always encouraging information out of other people, remembering the little details they share, but it’s never an even exchange. He used to think it was a choice you made, but he’s suddenly wondering if it’s because no one ever cared to listen. 

“I guess so,” you hum. You two should part ways. You climb into your Jeep, Eddie hop into his van. And maybe you’d sit in your respective idle vehicles for a second, even look at each other through tinted windows and make silly faces. But this should be the beginning of the end of your day together. Someone has to leave; one of you should leave. Instead, you just tilt your head curiously at Eddie, and he knows why now he wants to hold you so near and dear and safely as you ask him, “Well, in that case, do you wanna be friends?” 

And – yeah. Eddie does want to be friends. As a matter of fact, he might want to even be more than friends eventually. But for now, this offering is enough. 

He thinks you’ve rubbed off a little on him, because he must be bleeding a little bit of sunshine as he says, “Absolutely.”

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