#story’s been over since 1986 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

supernovafics · 11 months ago

Note

With your I’ll be there for you series would you be interested in writing about Steve discovering that he has feelings for reader? I think it would be sweet for him to just find even the silliest things she does cute and then him having a little melt down because he realised he’s liked her along. The series is such a great idea! 💭

𝐖��𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, drunk!steve, mentions of steve's dad being shitty, angst

summary: in which steve’s drunk and you don’t hesitate to cancel a date to take care of him

author's note: thanks for the request! probably from the moment i started this series/universe i knew that i wanted to have steve realize his feelings first so this request was quite literally perfect for that lol. this is slightly “while you were sleeping” by laufey inspired hence the title. the slow burn is finally starting to come to an end !! (i’m both happy and sad about that lmao) anyways enjoy<3333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

You were in the middle of debating between a black skirt and a brown plaid one that Robin convinced you to buy when you two went thrifting just a few days ago when the phone rang.

Leaving both options on your bed, you went to the kitchen to answer it, bottomless aside from the stockings you had already put on because of the cold late February weather.

“Hello?”

“Steve?” You recognized his voice for the most part, but he sounded a little different. A little far away, like he was calling from the oldest phone in the universe.

“Oh, hey.” The way he said the simple two words both confused and amused you because it sounded as if he didn’t expect you to be the person on the other end of the line.

You laughed a bit. “‘Oh, hey’? Don’t sound so disappointed. You called me.”

“I know. Sorry. I meant to call Eddie,” He said, and it was then that you heard what should’ve been obvious from the moment he said “Hello” to you— the way his words weren’t necessarily slurry, just slower than usual.

He was drunk, and you now recognized the voice that you had become so used to hearing since Steve’s sixteenth birthday when he snuck his dad’s whiskey and you both only had two shots of it before feeling it fully.

“Why would you call him? Aren’t you two together right now?” You asked, your confusion taking precedence over the amusement you felt in this moment.

Earlier that day, before you left the apartment to head to your twelve o’clock class, he told you that he was going to tag along with Robin, Vickie, and Eddie to some art show thing after his shift that night at Family Video; you would’ve gone too if you didn’t already have plans for the night.

“Also, I didn’t know that you could get drunk at an art show,” You added. “I’ll definitely make sure to go next time.”

“I didn’t go with them,” He told you, and before you could ask where he was, he answered the unspoken question. “I’m actually at a bar right now.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Very long story. Dad shit. What else is new, right?” Steve answered with a breath of a laugh.

He made his words sound lighthearted and as if whatever happened didn’t really affect him, but you, of course, didn’t see it that way. Without even being with Steve right then, standing in front of him and reading his facial expressions, you still saw through what he was trying to play off as “no big deal.” You’d known him more than long enough to know that anything involving his dad was usually always serious. And whatever shitty things his dad said to him this time around drove Steve to a bar rather than back here to the apartment to frustratingly rant to you, and that only worried you.

“Which bar are you at?” You asked softly.

“The only place in town, other than The Hideout, that doesn’t card,” He said and then immediately continued. “But, wait, don’t come here, though. I don’t want you to come get me. That’s why I was trying to call Eddie. I know you have your date tonight.”

Just for a second— actually, probably the entire time you’d been talking to Steve— you’d forgotten about the date, forgotten about the reason why you’d just been debating which skirt to wear, forgotten about what you were supposed to leave for in twenty minutes. And that slightly surprised you because, for the last couple of days, you’d been really excited about it.

Meeting Jamie felt like a sort of “meet cute” moment that was straight out of a romcom, one that you probably would’ve laughed at because of how cheesy it was. You bumped into him in the hallway on the floor of your apartment. He was your neighbor’s, Miss Johnson’s, nephew, and you learned that even though he went to a college about an hour away, he was trying to visit her more often. He had been in the middle of leaving when you saw him, and you gave a friendly wave and smile at first and he started a conversation with you. You two then spent an hour talking in the hallway before you headed inside your apartment to start studying for a test and he asked for your number, which led to more long conversations over the next few days until he asked you on a date.

In a way, it startled you how giddy you found yourself feeling about him after only those few days, how easily and quickly you liked him. It was the first crush that you had in a while that didn’t feel completely hopeless.

But now all of that was the last thing on your mind. It quickly became pushed to the side because you knew that your best friend needed you.

You shook your head in this moment even though Steve couldn’t see you. “No, it’s okay, I’ll come.”

“No, don’t, don’t. I’ll just call Eddie.”

He’s probably not home right now, was what you wanted to tell Steve, but you refrained from doing so at that moment. Instead, you said, “I’ll call him for you.”

The drunken sigh in relief Steve let out was immediate. “Okay, thanks, I don’t think I have any more change for this payphone, anyway.”

“Okay, just stay put and stop drinking.”

“The bartender already cut me off.”

“Good,” You said before saying a final goodbye to him and hanging up.

You then picked the phone up again to dial a different number. You, of course, didn’t attempt to call Eddie and you instead called Jamie. He was completely understanding when you told him that you had to cancel the date because of an emergency, and he said that you two could do the dinner and movie on a different night, which you quickly agreed on.

You put on the brown plaid skirt— quickly deciding that it looked better with the white top you were wearing, anyway— before slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing your coat, shoving your car keys and wallet into the pockets, and then leaving the apartment.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The drive to Webster’s took less than fifteen minutes and the current emptiness of it didn’t surprise you that much. From the handful of times that you’d gone to the place with Steve, Eddie, and Robin, it became a known fact that things didn’t become “lively” until after ten, and it was currently only a little after nine.

You spotted Steve sitting on a stool at the counter, head down in his folded arms. You sat in the empty seat next to him and tapped the side of his shoulder until he sat up and looked at you.

“Glad to know you’re alive, Harrington.”

He smiled at you and you gave him a small smile back, he must have forgotten that he’d told you not to come to the bar.

“I feel barely alive, actually.”

“Still counts.”

Steve only looked at you for a moment, taking notice of what you were wearing beneath your unzipped coat.

“You look nice,” He said and then seemed to realize something and his smile dropped. “Wait, shit, your date. You shouldn’t be here right now.”

“It’s fine. We’re just gonna reschedule it.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at him. “No, don’t be. It’s just a first date, anyway. Your drunk ass needing a ride home is obviously more important than that.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment?”

“Yes, you should,” You told him and then watched with furrowed brows as he went to grab the short glass that was in front of him, half full of some dark liquor. He was about to finish what was left in the glass, but you grabbed it from him before he could. “Steve.”

“I still had this from before I called you. I can’t finish it?”

“No, because if you end up throwing up in my car on the drive home, I will have to murder you.”

You looked away from him before he could say anything in response to that and waved at Barry, the usual bartender that you became on a first name basis with after your third time going to Webster’s. Since it was the farthest thing from busy right then, he immediately walked over to you two.

“Hey, Barry, can he have some water?”

He nodded and filled up a glass, sliding it over to Steve and then looking at you. “Glad to see you here. He’s looked like a sad little lost puppy for the past hour.”

Steve stopped mid-sip to scoff. “That’s very not true.”

“Sorry, but I think I have to believe the only other sober person here,” You said and only smiled at the second annoyed scoff he let out, which was hard to take seriously because of his current drunkenness.

Barry got called over by a group of people that just walked in and you silently watched Steve take a few sips from his glass. When he set it down, you lightly nudged his knee with yours. “Do you wanna talk about what happened with your dad?”

Steve simply sighed at first. “He came to Family Video today and went on this huge rant about me and what I’m doing with my life. He thinks my job is shit, and even me going to school part-time isn’t enough. He thinks I’m such a loser in comparison to his friend’s kids who are actually “doing things with their lives.””

You frowned and shook your head. “Fuck him.”

“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a small laugh and held up his glass of water for a second. “He also said that he wants to set me up with this job at his friend’s insurance company, and I immediately said no to that. I’m still not entirely sure what I wanna do yet, but I know it’s not that— some stupid fucking desk job. Especially not one that’s just given to me by my dad.”

“He’s an idiot,” You told Steve. “And also his bullshit is not at all worth the hangover you’ll have in the morning.”

“You might be right about that,” He responded, eyes fixed on his now half-empty glass of water and a small amused smile on his face. “But, it felt good for a second.”

You poked his arm so that he would look at you. “You could’ve talked to me about all of that instead of coming here.”

“I didn’t wanna mess up your date by coming home and talking to you about all of this sad shit. I knew that you’d just worry about me and probably not go,” He mumbled. “And I feel like a dumbass for still messing it up.”

“It’s okay. Seriously. Honestly,” You told him and then playfully smiled as you said your next words. “And you know that I would tell you if it wasn’t okay. I’d definitely hold this over you for at least a week, and force you to clean out Harold’s cage and do my laundry that’s been building up for the past week and a half. But you’re drunk and sad, and I’m way too nice to make you do any of those things.”

He laughed at that, which made you smile wider. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” You said before you stood up from the stool you’d been sitting in. “Now, come on, let’s get out of here before it starts getting crowded. Can you walk okay?”

Steve only nodded in response, which was a nonverbal answer that you weren’t sure if you completely trusted, so you stood close to him as he also got up and pulled some cash out of his back pocket and placed it on the counter.

He then waved at Barry, and you were certain that he probably didn’t mean for it to be so animated and comical, but it very much looked that way. “Goodnight, Barry.”

The bartender laughed a bit when he looked over at you and Steve. “‘Night, guys.”

Steve started heading toward the door first and you followed just a few steps behind him. When he stumbled a bit before even making it out of the door, you grabbed his hand and moved closer to him so that he could drape his arm around your shoulders, and then one of yours circled around his waist.

Leading him to your car was a feat in itself, but once he was settled in the passenger seat and you started driving, he rolled his window down completely and had it like that during the entire ride even though it was freezing cold outside, and that was worse than dealing with his stumbling.

When you made it to the apartment building, his balance was actually a bit more coherent so you didn’t need to do more than just hold his hand during the entire walk to the elevators and then down the hallway to the apartment.

You dragged him to your room and he sighed in contentment when he sat down on the side of your bed; he always liked your mattress better than his own for some reason.

“Wait, don’t fall asleep yet,” You told him before heading over to his room and grabbing a random t-shirt and basketball shorts from one of his drawers. “Here, put this on. I know you’d be mad at me if I let you fall asleep in those jeans.”

“Thanks,” He mumbled with a yawn as you handed the clothes over to him, and then you went to the kitchen as he started changing.

You filled a mug with water and then pulled open the drawer that had the bottle of aspirin in it. Neither you nor Steve were really sure why it lived there instead of in one of your bathrooms, where it probably should’ve been, but you two also didn’t make any effort to move it.

Steve was already asleep and under the covers when you walked back into your room, and you placed the mug and aspirin on the nightstand on his side. You changed into your own pajamas for the night, which simply consisted of an old baggy t-shirt and shorts, before settling in on your side of the bed.

It was still pretty early for a Friday night, barely even ten o’clock, but you didn’t mind going to bed because you were actually a little tired. Steve was turned and facing away from you, but you still watched him and his even breathing for a bit, making sure he was okay before you quickly drifted off to sleep yourself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steve didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but he could tell that it was pretty early because he could see the just sun starting to rise.

The other things he quickly noticed were that he was in your bed and he had a pounding headache, which was a little confusing at first, but then all of what happened last night started coming back to him.

The shit with his dad, the bar, the accidental phone call to you, and then you coming to the bar and bringing him home— he remembered it all.

With a soft groan, Steve slowly sat up in bed, doing his best not to wake you, and then reached over to grab the water and aspirin you left out for him.

He took the medicine and drank most of the water and then laid back down, turning on his side to face you. Your head was against the pillow and even breaths fell from your slightly parted lips. You looked so peaceful like this, he decided, so pretty.

Steve thought about you and Jamie, and how happy you had been when you talked about him. Steve also knew how excited you’d been about the date, and even though you had told him that it was okay that you had to cancel it last night, he still felt a little bad about it all.

He knew that you would probably do anything for him, and that was completely mutual. If the roles had been reversed last night, Steve wouldn’t have thought twice about canceling a date to go pick you up from some dumb bar. And making those sorts of sacrifices for one another never felt like a question, it just always felt like the obvious thing to do.

It didn’t completely make sense at first, but somehow it was that simple and crystal clear thought that managed to shift something deep down inside of him— it harshly drew the line between best friends and something more. And Steve quickly realized exactly which side he lay on.

Which was confusing because the lines of where your friendship began and ended had always felt so unquestionable— you and him were best friends; nothing more, nothing less.

But it was different now, it changed, and it was this moment that told him that it actually had been that way for a while; probably since you two moved into the apartment.

Starting from that day in August your lives became even more intertwined with one another— which didn’t feel entirely possible because of how close you’d been for so long— but it was true. He hadn’t realized how blurry the lines had been getting since then.

Since you two started beginning your days and ending them in the same home. Since so many nights became spent in each other’s beds; nothing more happening than sleeping and late night talking, but still. Since you two got Harold only a few weeks into living in the apartment, and you both immediately fell into your unserious parental roles in the hamster’s life. Since an unspoken early morning weekend routine fell into place where Steve would make coffee and toast and you’d do the eggs and bacon. Since you two became something equivalent to a married couple that had been together for at least twenty years.

And then Steve realized that actually maybe this something more had always been there— maybe it had always been so fucking obvious.

He thought back to the end of Senior year when you two went to each other’s proms and slow danced at the end of the night because you both thought it would be funny, but those moments actually turned into something really sweet and wholesome; and you’d both think back on it during the most randomest of times.

And then he also thought about smaller things, the parts of your personality that made him feel so goddamn lucky to know you. How you always fiddled with the radio and never settled on a station for longer than a few minutes during perhaps any car ride where Steve was the one driving; something that you’d been doing since the day he got his driver's license and you two went on your first solo car ride together. How pretty much anything you did would only make him smile and playfully roll his eyes or make fun of you.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was having this sort of “epiphany moment” right here, right now, in your bed as he looked at you peacefully sleeping next to him.

It, of course, stemmed from you canceling something that he had known you’d been looking forward to for the last couple of days to instead take care of him, he could recognize that. But, what made that so different from everything else you’d done for each other over the years?

He immediately thought that maybe there was no one straight answer to that question because it wasn’t about what was different. Instead, it was about all of those other moments too. They had slowly built upon each other until it came to this one on this February morning— nine years into your friendship and six and a half months into you two living together— and Steve could finally recognize what it all had meant, and he was ready to accept the truth for what it was too.

He liked you. More than liked, actually. He loved you, he was in love with you.

But, you were also his best friend, the most important person in his life, and he didn’t want to be the reason that that ever got messed up. And that thought was what made him finally look away from you and mutter out a soft, “Fuck.”

Steve quickly got out of the bed, and he was surprised, but also completely grateful, that his quick and hasty movements didn’t manage to stir you awake.

He left your room and went to the kitchen. It was early and he probably should’ve been trying to get a few more hours of sleep, but he wasn’t tired anymore.

The realization was the only thing on his mind— in a matter of seconds, it managed to completely consume it.

Everything else that had been happening the past few months finally made complete sense; Steve saw it all in a different way. He now understood why he couldn’t picture any sort of future with Vanessa when he went out with her a few times back in December even though he really did like her, and why he couldn’t see anything with anyone he went out with. Because deep down, he knew that he could only see that with you. It made sense why his dating life had been in such a rut lately and why he didn’t particularly mind it all that much.

When you two would jokingly say that you both were completely okay with ending up “alone together forever,” he realized now that from his side of things, deep down, it had never been a joke. And he wondered if it was the same way for you.

In an ideal world, the answer would be yes. But, things only felt confusing, and if he was being a thousand percent honest with himself, he didn’t know if that answer was yes in this world.

Steve knew that you really liked Jamie, even in such a short amount of time, so that couldn’t mean that you had any sort of feelings for him. Right? Or maybe you just hadn’t had your own “epiphany moment” yet? Should he tell you about his? Should he tell you about any of what just hit him in the past ten minutes?

His brain felt as if it was going to fucking explode with all of the questions circling his mind right then, and the coffee he was making failed to distract his thoughts from everything.

He came to the quick decision that he wouldn’t tell you what he was feeling; it would just be easier that way. There wouldn’t be any way for him to potentially fuck things up between you two if he simply ignored what he was feeling. It was easy to imagine how drastically your friendship would change if he told you everything and you didn’t feel the same. Therefore, he could push it all away to make sure that nothing changed for the worse.

When the coffee was done, he poured some into a fresh mug and took a long sip. Any other time, he couldn’t really stand straight black coffee, but the bitterness tasted good for once; he decided to focus on that instead of anything else.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he had been leaning back against the counter and sipping from his mug before you came out of your room. It could’ve been one minute or ten; right then, time felt as if it was moving both slow and fast.

“Hey,” You said, giving him a small smile and rubbing the tiredness out of your eyes. “I’m surprised you’re up already. I definitely expected you to be passed out until at least ten.”

It felt equivalent to a light switch flipping how quickly Steve felt affected by your smile and simply you in that moment. He’d probably seen you like this a million times before— just waking up and still in your now wrinkled pajamas from the night— but it felt entirely different now. And that was when he knew how fucked he was.

“Yeah, I, uh, I woke up and couldn’t, um, go back to sleep… So, yeah, just came out here. Made some, um, coffee,” He ultimately responded and then inwardly sighed at how flustered he was right then. He let out a quick laugh. “Sorry, blame the hangover for my inability to say sentences right now.”

If that was how he was going to act around you from now on, he knew that trying to keep this a secret was probably the most unrealistic idea ever.

You laughed a bit and nodded, seemingly unfazed by his awkwardness right then, and opened up the fridge. “You think you can stomach eggs and bacon?”

“Yes to the bacon, but I think I should play it safe and say no to the eggs.”

“Makes sense,” You said, closing the fridge after grabbing the bacon. You placed the pack on the counter near the stove and then looked at Steve. “You feeling better about all of that dad shit?”

It was almost comical how even though it had been the reason for everything that happened last night, the conversation he had with his dad was the farthest thing from his mind now.

“I’m good, actually.”

“Good,” You said, smiling at him and then reaching out to grab his hand and give it a light reassuring squeeze; which, unknown to you, made his heart feel as if it was going to somersault out of his chest. “Remember, the next time this happens, come to me and we both can get drunk here for free. Or we can just run away and join the circus, or whatever it was we agreed on when we were twelve.”

Steve only nodded and gave you a small smile in response because it felt as if that was all he could do at that moment. If he attempted to say anything, he felt like his words would’ve started or ended with, “I’m in love with you.”

He changed his decision then. He knew that he had to tell you everything because it wouldn’t be easy to simply bury it down and ignore it. There was no way that he’d be able to keep this from you, at least not for a long time, it was already swallowing him whole. And although he had no idea when or how he would tell you the truth, he made a quick promise to himself that he would do it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

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thewadapan · 15 days ago

Text

So why did Transformers One bomb?

Look, I'm just going to say it right off the bat: no, Transformers One is not the best Transformers movie of all time. I am (gritting my teeth) very happy for every single Transformers fan except me, who all seem to have liked it, and most of whom seem to have loved it. I agree that, as a production, it meets some baseline level of technical competence. It's a perfectly fine movie.

It's also the worst-performing Transformers movie Paramount has ever made.

Hopefully, now that its theatrical run has unceremoniously ended, people aren't going to try to rip me to shreds for theoretically threatening this multi-million-dollar film's box office revenue some miniscule amount by sharing a few teensy weensy complaints with my fifty followers.

Because I do just have a few little nitpicks, which I've tried my best to communicate, over the next 17,000 words of this post.

If you're not a Transformers fan, sorry, this essay is mostly written with the assumption that you've seen Transformers One. However, it might still be of some interest as a window into the current state of the franchise. I've written a basic plot summary of the movie to bring you up to speed, in that case. Because Transformers One purports to be the perfect introduction to the story, no homework needed, I've also done you the courtesy of elucidating background context as needed—think of this less as a review, and more as a history lesson, or maybe a "lore explained" YouTube video. After all, that's pretty much all that Transformers One is.

(And if farcically long posts aren't really your thing, you might prefer to listen to the special episode of Our Worlds are in Danger where my pals and I chatted about the film. Many of the hottest takes and silliest bits in this essay are shamelessly stolen from Jo and Umar.)

We've been waiting for Transformers One for a very long time. It's the first animated Transformers film to get a theatrical release since The Transformers: The Movie came out in 1986. It first entered development around a decade ago. Many fandom members I know online got to see it as far back as June. Its US premiere was in September; those of us in the UK had to wait a full extra month before seeing it, for no clear reason. This is a film which purports to show, in broad strokes, for the first time on the big screen, the origin of the Transformers: where they come from, who they are, and why they're fighting.

By the end of its runtime, Transformers One does not actually answer these questions. Don't get me wrong, it takes great pains trying to answer a lot of different, related questions—just ones which nobody was really asking in the first place: What does the word "Autobots" mean, if not "automobile robots"? What does the word "Decepticons" mean, if they're not actually deceitful? Why is he called "Optimus Prime"? Why is he called "Megatron"? If they were friends, why did they fall out? Why does Starscream sound Like That? Where does Energon come from? If "Prime" is a title, what were the other Primes like? How do Transformers transform?

Writer Eric Pearson, coming onto the project as an outsider to Transformers, describes having to go to Hasbro to ask these kinds of questions:

they had a script that outlined the story that they wanted to tell. I knew Optimus Prime and Megatron and I knew Bumblebee as well, or B. I had to ask about some of the other deeper ones, the mythology, “what exactly is the Matrix of Leadership?” Stuff like that.

See, Hasbro does in fact have the answers written down somewhere. The story as I understand it goes something like this. During the wild west of the '80s and '90s, Transformers "canon" was largely a by-the-seat-of-your-pants consensus-based affair between the freelance writers and copywriters the toy company would bring on to advertise their toys. That changed around the turn of the millennium, when late later-CEO Brian Goldner saw how Hasbro's licensed IP lines (such as Star Wars) were more financially successful and realised they could make more money by aggressively promoting their own in-house IP, which they didn't have to pay licensing fees for. (For the curious, a similar thought process at rival toy company Lego was what led to their creation of BIONICLE.)

The guy basically singlehandedly managing the Transformers brand at the time, Aaron Archer, eventually set to reconciling all the self-contradictory lore surrounding Transformers, an endeavour which dovetailed into the creation of the HasLab internal think-tank (best known for Battleship, the 2012 store-brand Michael Bay knockoff which was a failure critically and commercially but not in my heart) and ultimately the creation of the so-called "Binder of Revelation", an internal story bible which cost over $250,000 to produce and has strongly influenced nigh on every piece of Transformers media released since, but which we hadn't actually seen until it got leaked a week ago. As it turns out, the document itself (compiled mostly by marketers and toy designers) is patently useless to any writer: it's a typo-ridden internally-inconsistent wishy-washy mess that mostly describes the characters in terms of a made-up form of Transformers astrology that has otherwise never seen the light of day.

So although the Binder is the baseline story bible for most modern Transformers media, its influence isn't direct per se; it's more accurate to describe it as being an elaborate game of telephone between high-profile cartoons, comics, and other internal documents, with the Binder itself apparently just sitting in a drawer somewhere at Hasbro; Eric Pearson says that he never received a "binder", with the "script" he mentions either being the earlier draft from Andrew Barrer and Gabriel Ferrari (the guys who originally pitched the story), or some other unseen internal document. Director Josh Cooley, however, definitely seems to have been physically handed the Binder or its mass-market adaptation:

I knew that there was a lot of origin to be told, and when I first started, [Hasbro] gave me the Transformers Bible. I could not believe how big it was. I was like, "This is way more than I ever anticipated."

When trailers first dropped for Transformers One, a lot of my friends who are savvy were immediately like: "Oh, this is a weirdly faithful adaptation of the Binder of Revelation, huh."

I. The One True Origin of the Transformers

Half of the people reading this are Transformers fans, and half of you literally could not give less of a shit about Transformers, so if you're in the 'former group (so to speak), you'll just have to bear with me while I bring the rest of us up to speed.

Before the Transformers' civil war begins, Cybertron is being oppressed by the Quintessons. The Quintessons are a race of five-faced aliens (as in, not Transformers), who execute everyone they come across, first introduced in The Transformers: The Movie, presiding over a kangaroo court on a castaway world. In the followup cartoon five-parter "Five Faces of Darkness", writer Flint Dille established that, gasp, they were actually the original creators of the Transformers! But basically nobody else at the time was particularly compelled by this idea, it seems, with most fans preferring the more mythological origin story conceived by Bri'ish writer Simon Furman for the Marvel comics. I think people kind of just didn't like to think of the Transformers as being robots—mass-produced, a fabrication, programmed—as opposed to an alien race of thinking, feeling beings like us. But because the cartoon was important to many kids, a lot of early-2000s media tried to reconcile the cartoon and comic origin stories by stating that the Quintessons didn't actually create the Transformers; rather, they simply colonised the planet early in its history and pretended to be the Transformers' creators, until the truth came out and they got kicked offworld. This is how the Binder of Revelation ultimately paid lip service to the Quintessons. In Transformers One, the Quintessons are just sort of here, they're these evil aliens secretly skimming Energon from its miners, they don't speak English (or whichever language the film was dubbed into in your market region), they're just these nasty societal parasites.

Energon is Transformers fuel. In the original cartoon, it was these glowing pink cubes the Decepticons were always trying to produce using harebrained Saturday-morning-cartoon energy-stealing devices. There was a Cold War going on, America had just been through an "energy crisis", maybe you're old enough to remember any of that. Transformers are these big, complicated machines, so I guess the idea is they need this hyper-compressed superfuel to run off, and their homeworld has run out. By the time of the Binder of Revelation, the concept had been telephoned to the point where Energon is like the lifeblood of Primus or some shit.

Primus is the Transformers God—but not the kind of God you have "faith" in, rather this actual guy whose existence is objectively known in various ways. He transforms into a planet, that's kind of cool, right? Where does Primus come from? Look, it doesn't matter, he's like, the God of Creation, he was there at the start of time. He created all of the Transformers. All the other species in the galaxy, though, they evolved naturally thanks to "science". Actually wait, didn't that Quintus Prime guy go around the universe seeding all the planets with different kinds of Cybertronian life? That's why they're called Quintessons. See, now you know. Who's Quintus Prime?

Okay, so the Thirteen Original Transformers, or the Primes, are the thirteen original Transformers created by Primus. Most of them correspond to different kinds of Transformer: Nexus Prime is the god of Transformers who can combine, Onyx Prime is the god of Transformers who turn into animals, Micronus Prime is the god of Transformers who are small, and Solus Prime is the god of Transformers who are women. You might remember the Primes from Revenge of the Fallen, although there were only seven of them there for whatever reason.

Honestly, The Fallen was the only one who mattered for a long time. The whole reason there's thirteen of them is because thirteen is kind of an unlucky number, right? Twelve would've been fine. But throw in a thirteenth guy, and he betrays everyone, he's this fucked up evil guy. In the Binder of Revelation, though, the Thirteenth Prime is his own special guy shrouded in mystery, because they kind of liked the idea that Optimus Prime would secretly turn out to have been the Thirteenth Prime all along, and he just forgot or something, because that means he has the divine right of Primes. In IDW's 2010s comic-book reboot, the Thirteenth Prime was called "The Arisen"—in reference to that one line in The Transformers: The Movie, "Arise, Rodimus Prime!" (this margin is too narrow to explain who Rodimus Prime is). Towards the end of his run, writer John Barber did some actually interesting stuff with the concept, playing with the ambiguity over whether-or-not Optimus Prime was actually the chosen one.

All of Optimus Prime's immediate predecessors as Autobot leaders, Sentinel Prime, Zeta Prime, the lineage seen in "Five Faces of Darkness"... they're all false Primes. They're Primes in name only. In fact, IDW had a whole procession of these cartoonishly evil dictators thanks to a few continuity errors leading to the addition of a couple of extra narratively-redundant fuckers. Transformers One tries to simplify it slightly by just saying that Zeta Prime was one of the Primes for real—occupying that thirteenth "free space"—and it was just Sentinel Prime who was only a normal Transformer pretending to be a Prime, then Optimus Prime who's a real boy.

But if he's not a Prime from the start, Optimus Prime needs another name in the meantime. In the '80s cartoon episode "War Dawn", before he was called Optimus Prime, he was called "Orion Pax". Have you noticed that Optimus Prime is kind of an odd-one-out amongst all the straightup-English-word names like "Bumblebee" and "Ratchet" and "Jazz"? That's because his name was one of a tiny handful from very early in the franchise's development, before writer Bob Budiansky came onboard and came up with identities for the vast majority of the toys. Practically everyone Bob Budiansky named is called like, "Bolts" or some shit, long before the characters even know of Earth, which has always just been a contrivance of the setting you're not supposed to think about.

Presumably to create a parallel with Orion Pax's transformation into Optimus Prime, someone at Hasbro in the 2010s came up with a new name for the bot who would become Megatron: "D-16". In real-world terms, this was nothing more than a dorky reference to the Megatron toy's original Japanese release being number 16 in the line ("D" stands for "Destron", which is what they call Decepticons in Japan). But in-universe, the name "D-16" was drawn from the sector of the mine where he worked. I don't get the impression it was originally intended to be part of a broader pattern.

Which is why I'm baffled as to what the hell the reasoning was behind Bumblebee's pre-Earth name, "B-127". There's this bizarre situation in the Bumblebee film, where the name "B-127" first cropped up, where literally every other bot gets a normal cool name with personality like "Cliffjumper" or "Dropkick" except for Bumblebee, who is stuck with this clunky sci-fi name until he makes friends with a human teenager on Earth and she gives him the name Bumblebee. I guess I don't find it confusing that the writers would (correctly) realise it's a bit weird for Bumblebee to be called Bumblebee on an alien planet where bumblebees don't exist. What I find confusing is that they didn't extend that logic to any other character.

So despite everything else in the franchise's direction pointing away from "robot" and towards "alien", Transformers One ends up with this ridiculous situation where two of the most important guys are, for practically the whole movie, simply referred to as "Dee" and "Bee", I guess because the writers correctly realised the numbers sound fucking stupid.

And if you squint, "Elita-1" sorta fits this naming scheme. But the great irony of it is that the very same cartoon episode which coined "Orion Pax" simultaneously established that Elita-1 also used to go by a different name: "Ariel"! Like the Little Mermaid. Y'know, because an "aerial" is a type of electrical component- oh, forget it.

By the time the script made it into Eric Pearson's hands, it's obvious that he simply was not thinking about it that deeply. He describes the genesis of a scene where Bumblebee introduces his imaginary friends, "A-atron, EP 5-0-8, and Steve." A-atron was impov'd by Keegan-Michael Key as a reference to one of his own skits on Key & Peele. Steve ("He's foreign.") was literally just because Pearson thought it would be funny. It's true that Steve is an inherently funny name, and I guess if you're struggling to come up with jokes of your own, it can be handy to fall back on something which is inherently funny.

And again, our silly answers to these silly questions beget yet more questions. If he started out as "D-16", then where did the name "Megatron" come from? And if all the Primes have epic made-up fantasy names, then surely that one guy can't just be called "The Fallen", right? That's not a name, that's an epithet. Unfortunately, someone at Hasbro had the bright idea to answer both these questions at once: The Fallen's real name was "Megatronus". Later, for consistency, they threw on the title, and we get "Megatronus Prime", which sounds like what a thirteen-year-old on deviantART in 2014 would call their Steven Universe fusion of Megatron and Optimus Prime. So you see, Megatron actually named himself after Megatronus Prime, famously the most evil of the Primes. In Transformers One, this is changed slightly so Megatronus is merely the strongest of the Primes, as part of its overall effort to make Megatron not look completely insane.

Which, it must be said, is a tall order. Better stories have tried and failed. Back in 2007, Scottish writer Eric Holmes came up with Megatron Origin, a perfectly-fine comic miniseries which drew heavily from the miners' strikes that took place in the UK from 1984-1985, coinciding with the inception of the Transformers franchise. In that comic, Megatron is a lowly miner who, through a series of chance events, winds up at the head of a dangerous political revolutionary movement.

For some reason—I guess because nobody had ever tried to make Megatron anything other than a bloodthirsty cackling madman before—this take on Megatron as a guy who rose up against a corrupt system became the defining interpretation of the character, copy/pasted pretty much wholesale into the Binder of Revelation. Orion Pax also opposes the system, and bonds with Megatron over it, but they disagree on how to fix it: Pax believes in peaceful reform, Megatron just loves to kill. In Transformers One, the problem everyone has with Megatron is basically "whoa, this guy's a little TOO angry!" and there's a point towards the end of the film where Megatron suddenly starts jonesing to kill literally anyone who stands in his way, because he's irrationally angry.

The core problem here—and it's kind of the Magneto problem, the Killmonger problem, whatever better-known example you care to insert here—is that these guys all fundamentally exist just to be a big villain who loves to kill people and who ultimately gets defeated, but the kids who grew up on this stuff in the '80s are now adults who are no longer satisfied with cardboard cutout villains. People like a complex villain, they like a villain who has a point. They like to root for both sides. And in fact, it's easier to sell more toys to people who are rooting for both sides, if your villain is just another kind of hero. But you don't really need to take the same effort with the good guys: they're good by design, righteous by nature. They don't need to stand for something, they just need to stand against the guy whose whole thing is that he loves to kill people.

But again, we're starting from a place where the evil faction—who half the planet will ultimately align themselves with—are literally called "Decepticons". It's a name you'd only ever call yourself ironically, maybe reclaiming it from your enemies. In this film, there's some tortured logic that implies they're called Decepticons because they were deceived by Sentinel Prime. Like if you met a gang of guys who call themselves "The Robbers", but it turns out to be because they got robbed one time, and they actually have zero intention of stealing from anyone.

The Autobots are easier, of course. "Auto" is a prefix that just means, like, the self, or whatever. And the most agreeably American ideal of all is selfishness the power of the individual, the freedom to seize one's own destiny. Prime's original '80s motto, "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings," is bastardised in Transformers One into the slightly less rolls-out-off-the-tongue "Freedom and autonomy are the rights of all sentient beings," because (I can only assume) they forgot to work the word "autonomy" earlier into the script. If they ever greenlit Transformers Three, I suppose the motto would have ended up as something like "Freedom, autonomy, ruthless efficiency, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope are the rights of all sentient beings." Even though bodily autonomy is one of the most salient motifs present in the film—all but referred to by name—I suppose the filmmakers were worried that you might think, when Prime says "freedom", that he actually means something completely different. So now you see! "Autobots" is actually the descriptive name of a political movement which believes in obviously good things. Like "Moms for Liberty".

Okay, so the cannier among you have probably spotted the mean rhetorical trick I'm pulling with this encyclopedia-entry-ass introduction. By sarcastically relitigating all the storytelling choices I dislike from the last 20 years of Transformers lore, I can build up a negative association with Transformers One without even reviewing the movie itself! On a subtextual level, I'm deliberately misattributing these bad ideas to the filmmakers, conveniently ignoring the mountains of evidence to suggest that they were just trying to make the best of whatever Hasbro handed them from on high. If anything—you might think—the filmmakers deserve even more credit, for spinning this shite into something even remotely good on the big screen.

Like, you'd be wrong, but I can see why you might think that.

II. The Spider-Verse of Transformers

Okay, I can see that I've spat in your soup. I'm sorry. There are lots of good bits in Transformers One. I can even think of one or two of them off the top of my head, without really racking my brains.

Maybe halfway through the film, there is one specific moment where the story suddenly promises to get good. You can pinpoint it down to the word, down to the frame even. Our heroes have just discovered that their planet's leader, Sentinel Prime, is a complete fraud who's been secretly exploiting them ever since they were born—and worse, castrated them by removing their transformation cogs. They are all very cross about this. Orion Pax expresses that he wants to come up with a plan to expose Sentinel Prime. Megatron is too angry to listen. Orion Pax asks, "Don't you want to stop him?" And Megatron replies, "No, I want to KILL him!" And there's like, a little tint of red creeping into the glow of his eyes.

Whoa. Chills. Up to this point in the film, Megatron has been kind of surly at times, but he's otherwise a generic kids' movie protagonist. He's often chipper. He makes quips. He has this banter with Orion Pax where he's always complaining. It's literally that one "Optimist Prime"/"Negatron" comic, committed to film. Like I'm not even being facetious, one of the film's few obligatory "emotional moments" has Elita-1 sit Orion Pax down and say, "You know what I love about you? You always see the bright side. Like you're some kind of OPTIMIST or something." And then later completely unrelatedly God gives him the mandate of heaven and says "ARISE, OPTIMUS PRIME!" Y'see, as originally conceived, "Optimus" is the word "Optimum" if it was a name, which is why people sometimes localise his name as "Best #1". But it's genuinely kind of cute to reverse-engineer the etymology as coming from "optimist", I guess. Like, it's stupid, but it's cute.

Argh, I got distracted with naming minutia again! Entirely my bad. That's the last time, I promise. Where was I? Right, we'd just found out that Megatron is kind of scary. Brian Tyree Henry's line delivery as he growls "KILL" is his crowning achievement in this film.

Where Optimus Prime's character arc in this movie sees him change from a funny, rebellious spirit to a complete personality vacuum, Megatron's character arc is kind of the opposite. When we're first introduced to him, it's weirdly hard to get a handle on who he is. He's a fanboy for Megatronus, the strongest and most morally-unremarkable of the Primes. He looks up to Sentinel Prime. He likes sports. He doesn't like breaking the rules. In fact, we get the sense that, were it not for his friendship with Orion Pax, he would be literally indistinguishable from the legion of silent crowd-filling background characters he works with. But the moment he starts to become Megatron, it's like everything starts to click. Gears catch, where once they ground and idled. There is something in this guy that was made to fight, made to kill, made to rule. It's sick.

And the underlying tension in his friendship with Optimus suddenly snaps into focus. Megatron is mad at Sentinel Prime, but Sentinel Prime isn't there, he's somewhere else, far below... and he can't help but turn that anger on the next closest thing to an authority figure he has in his life, which is his peer-pressuring bestie, Orion Pax. There is a part of Megatron that wishes he'd never learned the truth, and he blames Orion Pax for his cursed knowledge, for constantly leading them into predicaments on his stupid flights of fancy. Now that he knows, he can't go back to how he was. He can't stop thinking about it.

I'll be honest, it rules. Obviously it rules. It's complicated and toxic and darker than this movie was marketed to be. In interview, Josh Cooley describes the draft of the script he was presented with when he joined the project as having been far more jokey, light-hearted, glib—and it seems we can credit him for saying "Look, this ain't right, the minute the credits roll these guys are going to be at civil war for millions of years."

So, they started talking about it in — what did you say, 2015? I came on board in 2020, and when I came on board there was the first draft of the script. So I don't think they'd been working on it that entire time, but they'd been thinking about it, for sure. And the script that I read was a little more comical? But it was clear that that wasn't the right tone for this film specifically, because we know there's gonna be a war, civil war on Cybertron, you can't have everybody making jokes and then all of a sudden there's a war. So, um, the stakes were really important for this film. And because our characters at the beginning are a little naive, and just on the younger side, not as experienced, it allowed more freedom for them to be a little looser and have fun really getting to know these characters. But once they realize something's going on and things are getting real, it needs to get real.

Cooley also describes his "in" on the film as being the brotherly relationship between Optimus Prime and Megatron (they're not literally brothers in this film, though they have been in the past), which perhaps explains why Megatron and Optimus Prime get to be characters, instead of just like, guys who are there.

That was always the goal from the beginning and what got me on board. It was this relationship between these two characters that was very human and brotherly. I thought about my relationship with my brother and how I could bring that in. It’s not like we’re enemies, but we grew up together and then went down our different paths, but we’re still brotherly. I became a writer-director and live in a fantasy land, and he became a homicide detective who deals with reality, so we’re two very different mindsets. I have always been fascinated by the idea of two people who come from the same place but end up in different ones. From the very beginning, I was like, ‘That’s something I can relate to.’

Anyway, things I liked, what else. There's that joke at the very start, after the excruciating lore powerpoint, where Orion Pax does a fake-out like he's going to transform, the music briefly swells, and then it just cuts to him legging it down the corridor. In a similar vein, I liked the idea behind the Iacon 5000, where Orion Pax has them run in the race. I felt like the execution of the race left a bit to be desired—the only other participant who matters is Darkwing—but it's still honestly the best big action setpiece in the film. There's also that bit at the end where Megatron and Optimus Prime are both changing into their final forms simultaneously, and it's basically a Homestuck Flash (what would that be, "[S] OPTIMUS PRIME. ARISE."?), so obviously I liked that. Oh, and I really liked the environment design where the planet's landscape is constantly transforming, that's brand-new, someone had an Idea there, and it creates visual interest during the initial Energon-mining scene... even if I wished it had actually paid off in a more meaningful way than "the planet's crust opens as Prime falls to get the Matrix"—like, someone really should've gotten eaten by the planet, that's a cracking Disney death scene and they left it on the table! I also liked getting to see my blorbo, Vector Prime, on the big screen.

I think, as a Transformers fan who's had to sit through a lot of really quite sexist, racist, and plain bad films, you're well within your rights to come out of this one ready to give it a fucking Oscar. You should be ecstatic! It has none of those pesky humans clogging up the frame. It has plenty of robot action. It has jokes which- well I struggle to call many of them "funny", but they're at least trying to be funny in a different way to Michael Bay's films. The film is obviously a massive love letter to... honestly every part of Transformers except the live-action movies. It is an incredibly faithful and earnest adaptation of all the lore and iconography that has randomly accumulated the way it has over the last forty years of bullshit.

My main point of contention, then, is with the overriding sentiment I'm seeing from pretty much everyone else in the fandom: that this is not just the best Transformers movie, but that it's a great animated movie period, that it does for Transformers what Into the Spider-Verse did for Spider-Man, what The Last Wish did for Puss in Boots, and what Mutant Mayhem did for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. That, in effect, this film will make you "get it". That it's better-looking, better-written, and more meaningful than a silly toy commercial has any right to be.

I think you can definitely see some loose influence from Spider-Verse in the overall look of the film—particularly in its color grading, and in the design of its main setting, the underground city of Iacon, where the upside-down skyscrapers hanging from the ceiling evoke the iconic "falling upwards" shot from Spider-Verse. Like The Last Wish, it's an animated franchise film that spent much longer than you'd think in development, only for the release of Into the Spider-Verse to have an immediate impact on its visual style... without actually affecting the basic story to the same extent. Both Transformers One and The Last Wish, in many ways, feel like stories concocted using an older formula; in particular, Transformers One bears startling similarities to a similar toy-franchise-prequel, BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui, which was released twenty years ago! By contrast, Mutant Mayhem—which had a much shorter development period—is a direct reaction to Spider-Verse in both aesthetic and narrative, and it has a much more distinctive creative direction as a result.

If you look at how all these titles have performed in cinemas, I think you can make a pretty strong case that audiences are perfectly willing to go out and see this kind of flick. A glance at Wikipedia tells me that Mutant Mayhem, The Bad Guys, and The Last Wish grossed double, triple, and quadruple their budgets respectively. In terms of the pre-existing cultural cachet they were banking on, we're talking about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a children's book series I'd never heard of, and fucking Puss in Boots. You cannot tell me that Transformers, as a brand, is on the same level as any of these properties. Meanwhile, Transformers One hardly broke even, while The Wild Robot—another DreamWorks film based on a children's book I've never heard of, which it ended up competing with in theatres—grosses three times its budget. My friends who've seen The Wild Robot say it made them cry.

Face it: Transformers One has not lit the world on fire. I've seen a lot of people cope with this by suggesting that it's to do with the film's staggered release, or even by claiming that the film's marketing was somehow misleading. I'll be honest, upon seeing it, it did not strike me as being at all dissimilar to the trailers. You can maybe say that the trailers undersold the depth of Orion Pax's and Megatron's relationship—which is its best aspect—but honestly, I think if they'd taken a lot of those scenes out of context and put them in early teasers, audiences would've laughed it out of theatres. Like, c'mon, it's toy robots, stop pretending it's Shakespeare. And otherwise, what you see is what you get; it's exactly what it says on the tin.

I wonder how many Transformers fans, on some level, have noticed that even when we're supposedly "eating good", and watching "peak cinema", our films just aren't as good as everyone else's. They're something you'll enjoy if you're already highly predisposed to enjoy them. But otherwise, they're not turning heads. They're not as funny, or as heartfelt, or as complex, or as exciting, or as charming, or as memorable, or as beautiful as these other films. Unlike with Spider-Verse, there's no word-of-mouth amongst normal people to say that this is a film worth seeing.

What I perceive in studios hoping to recreate the flash-in-the-pan success of Spider-Verse is a misunderstanding of what made people go crazy for that movie in the first place. Yes, it changed our conception of what an 3D-animated film could look like. Yes, the multiverse is very cool and all that. Yes, it had a huge IP attached to it. But on a more fundamental level, that movie has a fantastic story underpinning it. The script is razor-sharp. The story is beautifully complex. The vision of New York City it presents is a living, breathing place, populated by real people. It has the kind of craft to it that can only come from truly obsessive creators cultivating an absolutely miserable professional environment for a legion of passionate animators.

In interview, Transformers producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura actually spoke surprisingly candidly about his view on crunch:

I probably shouldn't answer this question, because I'm not exactly PC on my answer. I think the nature of filmmaking is, we're really lucky to work in a business that's about passion. Passion doesn't fit really well into a timeline, so inevitably you come to a crunch time. It's just true in the live action, it's true in every movie, and authors always tell me that about when they're writing their books — it's the same thing happens to them! There's something about the creative process that's not — it's unruly. So, I think if you're enjoying it, you need to recognize that. Like, you know, I don't wanna abuse anybody, and y'know — if you get into that period where people have to really work too hard, you gotta help them in that situation, then. 'Cause it's gonna come. It does on every movie. I've never seen it not come, no matter how well you plan, et cetera. 'Cause it's not a science what we're doing at all, and there's all these discoveries that happen near the end, which makes you go "oh, let's do some more, come on!". We discovered that on this movie, where we're calling ILM going "we've got a few ideas, you know, do you have enough man-hours?". [...] Like, you gotta be conscious of it — in live-action, for instance, there are some studios that are so cheap that when you're on — sort of medium location-distance and you're shooting 'til midnight, they don't pay for a hotel room. It's like, well, no-no-no, you pay for a hotel room. You protect the people.

According to everyone who worked on Transformers One, everyone who worked on Transformers One was very passionate about it. But there are parts of this film where I think you can say, pretty objectively, that it's falling short of its intended effect. So I guess maybe they weren't that passionate. I'm not saying that to be mean! It's just... isn't that better than the alternative—that this was the best they could do?

III. I did not care for The Godfather

At one point in the film, the gang's magic map leads them to a scary cave, which looks like this:

Bumblebee fills the dead air by saying, "A cave, with teeth. Nothing scary about that!" The joke here is that this is a cave that looks like a mouth. But as depicted, it's a cave that looks like a mouth that doesn't look like a cave! I get that this is an alien planet, but stalactites don't grow that way on Earth, so when you see the cave onscreen, your gut reaction isn't "oh my, what a frightening cave!". No, this is a cave that makes you say, "that's not a cave, that's some kind of alien monster".

(It's not like "cave turns out to be a monster" would in any way be a fresh twist. In BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui, there's a bit where a character swims into a scary cave, and it turns out to be the mouth of a massive sea serpent. In The Empire Strikes Back, the Millennium Falcon briefly hides in an asteroid tunnel which turns out to be a giant space worm. So I'm definitely not saying Transformers One would've been a better film if it had used this stock trope.)

Then once the heroes go inside, we're whisked off to an entirely different set of concept artwork, for this lush organic underground paradise. There's no danger there. The cave itself is reduced to a strange little footnote. Maybe it's only in the story because a concept artist drew it before they'd worked out the finer points of the narrative, and Keegan-Michael Key just ended up ad-libbing the "teeth!" line when he was told to vamp for a few seconds. Or maybe the teeth gag was fully written into the script from the start, and the environment artists just interpreted it way too literally.

Like, I'm sorry, I don't mean to start off on the wrong foot here by harping on about the cave thing—it's not a perfect example anyway—but to me it's a microcosm for my frustration towards what I perceive to be a lack of creative vision in this film. So much of the film feels like it's not there to be entertaining, or meaningful, or narratively load-bearing... it's just obligatory, something they threw in for the sake of having anything at all. It's colors and sounds. When you see the spiky shape onscreen, you think, "ooh, this film was pretty bouba earlier, but now it's more kiki!" They get the comedian to improvise a few one-liners while the characters walk from place to place. And it's like, yes, this is a film for children. Of course the heroes have an adventure map with a big red X on it. In many respects this is a glorified episode of Pocoyo, or the modern equivalent, which I guess is "Baby Shark | Animal Songs For Children".

Nowhere is this sense of "we are obliged to put this in the movie" felt more strongly than in its supporting cast. When you look closely, you notice that Bumblebee and Elita-1—placed prominently in the film's marketing and being technically present for much of its runtime—don't actually do anything of narrative significance. They don't make choices that impact the story; they're just there, and it would not take much rewriting to excise them entirely, so it's just Orion Pax and Megatron on their little adventure. In fact, I'll just come out and say it: I think Transformers One would have been a better movie if Bumblebee and Elita-1 were not in it.

It helps that, from a Doylist perspective, the motivations for their inclusion are perfectly transparent. Firstly, think of the merchandise! Secondly, in Bumblebee's case, it's fucking Bumblebee, he's the whole reason half the kids will be watching, you can't not have him in there. Whenever Bumblebee's not onscreen, all the other characters should be asking, "where's Bumblebee?" Also, I think the creative team felt that they could use Bumblebee tactically to balance some of the darkness in the story.

In the G1 cartoon, Bumblebee just has the default Autobot personality—good-natured, a little sarcastic—with the dial turned a little more towards friendliness. There's this iconic anecdote from the production that cartoon, where writer David Wise found himself in exactly the same situation Transformers writers are finding themselves in forty years later: he was told to write a story about something called "Vector Sigma", and he had no fucking clue what Vector Sigma was supposed to be. So he asked story editor Bryce Malek, who also had no fucking idea. Malek in turn asked Hasbro, and was told that Vector Sigma was "the computer that gave all the Transformers personalities". Upon hearing this, Malek said, "Well, it didn't do a very good job, did it!" Vector Sigma, in case you missed it, does actually appear in Transformers One, as the polygonal shape that transitions into the Matrix of Leadership in the opening powerpoint; I guess they're one and the same now. Some things never change: in Michael Bay's Transformers movies, there is again just a single default personality that every single Autobot shares, a braggadacious action-hero facade over genuine bloodthirst. Who can forget that iconic moment in Revenge of the Fallen where Bumblebee rips out Ravage's spine in grisly slow-mo?

Aside from the fact that he's small and yellow, Bumblebee in Transformers One bears very little resemblance to any incarnation of the character kids might be accustomed to. Instead, he occupies a stock comic-relief archetype, he's a zany guy who goes "Well, that just happened!" If anything, his one joke in the third act—wanton murder—reads like it could maybe be a reference to his many Mortal Kombat fatalities in Bay's films. Beginning in 2007's Transformers Animated, Bumblebee has sometimes possessed deployable "stingers" that flip out from his hands, as a fun action feature for toys. Clearly someone on Transformers One saw this and thought it was the funniest fucking thing that Bumblebee has "knife hands", because the character spends the third act of the movie just shouting "knife hands!" and cutting people in half like a medieval terror.

(In the UK, Bumblebee's lines were re-recorded at the last minute so he says "sword hands" instead. This is because in the UK, we generally aren't able to kill each other using guns, so it's knives that are the big armed-violence boogeyman. Everyone's always talking about how all the kids have knives. And look, I'm not someone to indulge in moral panic, but genuinely, when I look at Bumblebee chasing around people with knives, saying, "I'm gonna cut these guys, watch!", I'm like... what the fuck were they thinking when they wrote that?)

Frankly, whatever is going on with Bumblebee is just an entirely different movie to everything else that's happening. When Bee shanks his twelfth nameless lackey in a row, the movie's like, awww, you're sweet! But when Megatron tries to kill the one (1) evil dictator who's just fucking branded him, who's still lying to his face while his people continue to die to the guy's fuckin' honor guard, Optimus Prime is like, HELLO, HUMAN RESOURCES?

Bumblebee is solely here to be funny, but there's a point in the film where it needs to become a war story, and the best they can think to do with Bumblebee is to have him kill people but in like, a funny way.

As for Elita-1... look, to put it very bluntly, she is in this movie to be a woman. Transformers has had a long, long forty-year history of boys'-club exclusionism, if not outright misogyny, and each new series usually has a token female character, as a kind of fig-leaf for the fact that really, the only fucking thing Hasbro cares about is that the boys are buying the toys. Beginning in the 1986 movie, it was Arcee who got to be "the pink one" for many years of fiction—but not toys, y'see, when parents want to buy something for their beloved young lad, they don't buy "the pink one", no sir. In the 2010s, wow-cool-OC Windblade took over for a stint as leading lady, decked out in a commercially-non-threatening red color scheme. Recently, though, it's been Elita-1—Optimus Prime's girlfriend from the original '80s cartoon—who's been the go-to female character, and she's increasingly allowed to be pink.

There is a lot of love for these characters amongst creatives and fans alike, and especially in the last decade, female Transformers have been both more numerous and better-written than ever. Unfortunately Transformers One, which depicts Elita-1 as an arms-crossing career-obsessed buzzkill, whose arc sees her learn her place in deference to a less-competent man... well let's just say it struck me as a significant step back in this regard.

There's this great interview with Scarlett Johansson, voice of Elita-1, where she's trying to describe what makes her character interesting, and it's like she's drawing blood from a stone. She's like, "yeah, so Elita-1, I would say, she's on her own journey, because at the start of the film it's sort of like she's working at a big company, you know, and she wants to get a promotion, but then later on she learns that she can't, y'know, get a promotion". Look, it's not that Scarlett Johansson does a bad job—in fact, considering the material she's working with, she practically carries Elita-1 entirely on the back of her performance—it's just that I can't shake the impression that the filmmakers would rather pay Scarlett Johansson god knows how many thousands of dollars than try to think of a second actress that they know of.

As I've already complained, Transformers One has a pretty thin cast, but it effectively only has two other female characters who do anything. Airachnid is a secondary antagonist, Sentinel Prime's spymaster/enforcer, and it's clear that some concept artist really fucking popped off when designing her. She has eyes in the back of her head, and it's ten times creepier than that makes it sound. Her spiderlegs also create some visual interest during fight scenes. As a character, Airachnid has zero internality and is not interesting, but she is cool, so you'll get no complaints from me there.

The film's other other female character is Chromia, who wins the Iacon 5000 race at the last moment. She really comes out of nowhere to clinch it. It's funny, because the leaderboards show this one guy, Mirage, hovering near the top of the rankings for almost the whole sequence. And Chromia's character model really looks suspiciously like Mirage's. In fact, there's a different character who stands around in the background a couple of times who looks much more like Chromia. Funnily enough, that background character is even called Chromia in concept art! So if you connect the dots, it really seems that the "Chromia" who is the best racer on Cybertron was originally meant to be Mirage, a guy, until they switched the character's gender at the very last minute, and didn't bother changing the leaderboards to match.

There are two possible explanations for this. The first is that Mirage was the dark horse of Rise of the Beasts, and for some reason they felt like his depiction in Transformers One would've gotten in the way of their plans for the character somehow. It's plausible, I guess. The second, infinitely funnier option, is that at some point someone working on the movie realised that they only put two women in the film, scrambled to look through the feature to find a suitable character to gender-swap, only to discover to their horror that they'd forgotten to put in any characters whatsoever. Fuck it, the racer guy! He can be a girl. Diversity win, the fastest class traitor on Cybertron... is a woman!

In case you were wondering about the Transformers One toyline leaderboards, by my count, Orion Pax has ten new transforming toys currently announced or in stores, Bumblebee and Megatron have six each, Sentinel Prime has four, Alpha Trion has two, Elita-1 has two, Airachnid has one, Starscream has one, Wheeljack has one, and the Quintesson High Commander has one. In fact, one of Elita-1's toys—the collector-oriented high-quality Studio Series release—isn't scheduled for release until some undetermined point later next year, and she was entirely absent from leaked lists of upcoming releases, which to me smacks of "we realised last-minute that it would look really really bad if we didn't bother to release a good toy of the one woman in the film". Oh, and obviously, Chromia has no toys—but there is an "Iacon Race" three-pack consisting of Megatron, Orion Pax... and Mirage. Go figure.

The thing is, all of the stuff I'm grousing about here is pretty much standard fare for kids' films targeted more at boys. Hell, even The Lego Movie—which is basically the gold standard of toy commercials—gave supporting protagonist Wyldstyle a pretty similar arc to the one Elita-1 gets here, which was probably the weakest element of that film. Evidently conscious of this, Lord & Miller redeemed themselves by devoting the entirety of The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part to deconstructing common narratives surrounding gender roles. I guess I just wish the young girls who presumably comprise some portion of Transformers One theatergoers could actually get anything out of Elita-1 as a character. Ah, what do I know, maybe it's still considered countercultural simply to depict a woman punching people.

Still, to give credit where it's due: Transformers One doesn't remotely touch the gender-essentialism prevalent in the Binder of Revelation, treating female Transformers no differently to their male counterparts in lore terms. Solus Prime is, it seems, just a Prime who happened to be a woman, rather than the mythological Eve after whom all women are patterned. There's a scene where our heroes are gifted the Transformation Cogs of the fallen Primes, and the Primes named thankfully bear no particular relation to the characters; in other words, Elita-1 isn't given Solus Prime's cog. As Alpha Trion puts it: "What defines a Transformer is not the cog in his chest, but the spark that resides in their core." Dude really remembered nonbinary people exist halfway through that sentence huh.

(Actually, the bigger mistake would've been with Megatron: if he was given Megatronus Prime's cog from the start, then this would've created the unfortunate implication that his descent into evil was only the result of Megatronus Prime's fucked up and evil cog, rather than a choice Megatron made of his own free will. The film instead has it the other way around: Megatron's radicalisation into a "might makes right" philosophy is what causes him to covet Megatronus Prime's transformation cog, to steal that power from Sentinel Prime, who stole the cogs of both Megatronus and Megatron in the first place. That's cool! This does create a bit of unfortunate narrative dissonance with Alpha Trion's words, alas, as it does seem like Megatronus Prime's cog really is more powerful than the others, because it gives both Sentinel Prime and Megatron a powerup.)

There's just something that I find so dreadfully mercenary about this movie's cast—honestly, everyone except Orion Pax, Megatron, and maybe Sentinel Prime. Take Darkwing, for example. Bro was clearly designed from the ground up to fill this stock character role of "bully who pushes our guys around and later gets his comeuppance". For a more interesting take on that exact same archetype, look no further than Todd Sureblade from Nimona, a bigoted knight who gets a whole damn character arc in the background, which directly complements that film's main themes.

Again, I'm not playing some kind of guessing game here, the authorial evidence is right there: Darkwing didn't even have a name until Hasbro designer Mark Maher was shown a picture of the character and asked, "If this was a Decepticon flyer, who would it be?" This is actually par for the course with ILM; most of their concept art is labelled with very basic descriptions, with the exact trademarks being picked in conjunction with Hasbro at a later point. Darkwing just stands out in Transformers One because he's the only recurring speaking character who's an OC in all but name (unless you count Bumblebee), he's the one guy who's been invented from scratch with total creative freedom, and he's boring as sin. It's like the filmmakers just couldn't conceive of a children's movie without that stock character—and they clearly had no idea what to do with him once they'd invented him, because he disappears entirely from the film at the start of the third act, when Orion Pax throws him into an arcade cabinet, which they have in the mines on Cybertron for some reason.

In a film with as painfully few named speaking characters as Transformers One, there's really no excuse for having this kind of one-dimensionality in their portrayals. Genuinely, I ask—who are Orion Pax and Megatron fighting to liberate? Jazz, one of the biggest personalities from the original G1 cartoon, who gets all of two boilerplate lines here? Cooley seems to think so:

As you’re designing them the background characters are almost like Lego pieces where you put different heads on different bodies just to fill in a crowd. But some of them would be brought forward and be painted specific colors so that it represents a character that I didn’t know was such a big deal. But there was stuff—like Jazz, for example, has a pretty big role. It was important to have a relationship with a character that we know gets to be saved.

To me, the idea that casual cinemagoers would be invested in any of the Transformers as characters is laughable. Michael Bay's characters are famous for being hateful non-entities. In terms of the films, Jazz is best remembered for dying at the end of the first one, seventeen years ago; he looks completely different here. The one breakout character in recent years—Mirage, as played by Pete Davidson in Rise of the Beasts—was, as I've already mentioned, written out so that the movie could reach its girl quota... not that he would've had any lines anyway.

And I just don't buy the idea that the complete dearth of compelling characterisation in this film is just an unfortunate side-effect of its clipped one-hour-thirty runtime—that, given even half an hour longer, the film would suddenly be crowded with rich portrayals of all your Transformers faves. Bumblebee and Elita-1, ostensibly two of the most important characters in the film, are not in this movie because the movie is interested in telling their stories. They are in this movie for the sake of being in this movie. It insists upon itself.

IV. No politics means no politics

In fact, putting aside merchandising considerations, Elita-1 and Bumblebee serve one very specific purpose in narrative terms. The trait Optimus Prime and Megatron have always had in common is that they are both leaders—and what is a leader, without anyone to lead? Without Bumblebee and Elita-1, you'd have this farcical situation where the only person Optimus Prime ever gets to boss around is Megatron, until the very end of the movie when God makes him king of all Cybertron. The High Guard, Starscream's gang of exiles, serve a similar narrative purpose for Megatron; they're a ready-made army who've just been sitting around waiting for him to show up and take charge.

Towards the end, the movie does actually take care to show both Orion Pax and Megatron rallying groups of Cybertronians: in Pax's case, he reveals the truth to his legion of interchangable miner friends, while Megatron riles up the High Guard mob. Again, there's a bit of that narrative sleight-of-hand, a bit of a thematic cop-out, where the question of "how do Optimus Prime and Megatron come to be leaders of their factions?" is answered only in the most literal possible interpretation. Yes, we technically see the exact chain of events that lead to this point—but both characters are portrayed as born leaders. We don't see them grow into the role, except physically. The moment Megatron decides he wants to rule, he's able to take charge. Likewise, Optimus Prime just gets divinely appointed by God. At a key point, Megatron loudly declares "I will never trust a so-called leader ever again", and the movie plays a fucking scare chord like this is supposed to be ominous. Like, oh no! Optimus Prime is a leader! And they're friends! Whatever will Megatron do when he finds out his friend, Optimus Prime, is a leader?

I don't think the movie has given any real thought to what a leader actually is. It seems to take a stance that power cannot be taken, i.e. through violent action, as Sentinel Prime and Megatron do. That one scene with Elita-1 suggests the most important trait for a leader to have, above and beyond any particular competency, is simply hope and optimism. What I just can't wrap my head around is the fact that the counterpoint the movie presents to Megatron, in the form of Orion Pax becoming Optimus Prime, does not support a belief in collective action or basic democracy—rather, it's a boring sword-in-the-stone divine-right-of-kings fantasy.

Except I do have a theory for why the film is like this. Let's look again at that interview with Eric Pearson, who came onboard in the "late middle" of production:

One of the first things that I did was a big pass on Sentinel Prime. I just felt like he was too obviously telegraphing his wickedness in previous versions, and I felt like, “No, he’s a carnival barker.” He’s got to be a big salesman. He’s a bullshitter, honestly is what he is.

(Honestly, if this is Sentinel after a "big pass" to make his villainy more of a twist, I shudder to think what the earlier drafts were like.)

Now, let's see how WIRED introduces their interview with Josh Cooley, titled "Transformers One Isn't as Silly as It Looks":

He liked the script, which traces how Optimus Prime (Chris Hemsworth) and Megatron (Brian Tyree Henry) went from friends to enemies. But as the world went into lockdown as Covid-19 spread, Cooley found his story changing, if only slightly. Trump was still in office when Cooley started working on the film, and he was having meetings with the producers and they’d “start these meetings off on Zoom just going, like, ‘Holy crap what is going on in this world?’” he says. Ultimately, the infighting they were seeing between Democrats and Republicans in the same family became an undercurrent in the film’s friends-to-enemies storyline, “because that’s what Transformers is.”

So it's like, oh, this is a 2016 election thing. This is just that one election that broke everyone's brains. Of course this movie about a made-up political struggle on an alien planet being developed from 2015-2020 wouldn't be like, hey, you know what might fix our society's problems, is if we had an election. Of course the main villain is a "big salesman" "bullshitter" who says things like "The truth is what I make it!". Wow, guys, your film is so-o-o politically-conscious, and very pretty.

The fantasy is more or less that Donald Trump's army of reactionaries is marching on Washington to seize power through violent means, and on the way he drops Joe Biden into the Grand Canyon, but just before Joe hits the ground a giant fucking bald eagle swoops in to catch him and squawks, "God finds you worthy! Arise, President Biden!"

In our escapist little morality play, our best friend slash allegorical dad gets made king of the planet, and we all get jobs in the government. As in, one of the funniest lines in the movie is straightup Bumblebee exulting, "This is the greatest day of my life. I get to work for the government!" When Prime met Bumblebee—an hour ago—the dude was talking to imaginary friends, and honestly the only fucking skill he's demonstrated since then is cold-blooded murder. We have this dissonance in the storytelling, where it's mostly a story about four friends going on an adventure (are they even friends? Most of them hate each other!), but it's also a founding-fathers political origin story, which means there comes a point where our hero just suddenly starts bossing his friends around in a deep voice, and they're like, "Yes, sir!" It creates this unhinged situation where the "good" faction on Cybertron is ruled by the biblical chosen one and his nepotism buddies.

Per that quote from WIRED (or are they just putting words in Cooley's mouth? I can't help but notice they don't give an exact quote!), the film is ultimately sympathetic to the bad guys (the Republicans, I guess). It deliberately suggests that there is really nothing that should divide the Autobots and the Decepticons: their political goals, it claims, are identical, and they only disagree on the means by which to achieve them. The Decepticons, who are angry and hateful, have simply been misled by a power-hungry liar with charisma—first Sentinel, then Megatron—and so the tragedy is that they are artificially pushed into conflict with their fellow men, when really they should be uniting to stand against their common enemy, the foreigner illuminati trying to steal Cybertron's wealth.

Now, I know I've just handed you a get-out-of-jail-free card. My political allegory here is chock full of holes. What, are Sentinel Prime and Megatron both Donald Trump? Get a grip. Obviously any real-world commentary in Transformers One was only intended in the loosest sense imaginable: things like, "people should be free to change into whatever they want!" I'm being unfair, I'm reading too much into it, this is a cartoon movie for children, and if I want politics, I should start reading some fucking books. Also, come to mention it, my whole argument about that cave earlier really didn't hold water, and- I know, alright? I know.

V. Place / Place, Cybertron

I'm not mad at this toy commercial because its politics don't quite align with mine. I'm not mad at it for having a boring-ass supporting cast. I'm not mad at it for reheating a bunch of half-baked lore I didn't care for from the early 2010s. I've actually spent a lot of time mad about Transformers media that I've thought was bad. There's Transformers: Armada, where the English translators are fully asleep at the wheel and render even the most basic cartoon plots incomprehensible though constant mistranslations. There's Transformers: Micromasters, where two white guys wrote a downtrodden race of tiny Cybertronians who greet each other like "Wattup, my micro!". There's the recent series of Transformers: EarthSpark, where there's an episode that I can only describe as "the Wonka Experience but it's an episode of a children's cartoon", with a plotline that mostly revolves around our child heroes straightup robbing a Onceler-looking businessman of his most valuable possession. There's Transformers: Age of Extinction, with that one scene, and also the rest of that movie. In fact, I would go so far as to say that most Transformers fiction is some combination of bad, offensive, and offensively bad.

So even though I've just spent thousands of words whinging and moaning about how I didn't like Transformers One, the truth is that I had a perfectly nice time at the cinema. I got to go see it with five of my pals who love Transformers just as much as I do, and we had a blast. It is easily in the top 50% of all Transformers fiction.

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, I guess I've always given a lot of thought to what Transformers looks like from the outside. Maybe it's that I'm compelled to spend so much time and money on it, that it somehow compels me to vomit up these kinds of essays, and all I want is to be able to make it make sense to anyone in my life. It would be so, so nice if I could just sit down in the cinema with a friend or family member for a couple of hours, and at the end of it, they'd be able to walk out and say, "Okay, I guess I see what you get out of it." Rise of the Beasts was kind of that movie for me, but Rise of the Beasts is also the seventh instalment in a blockbuster franchise. It kind of takes for granted everything about Transformers.

It doesn't answer, "what the fuck is a Transformer anyway?"

For many years now, fans have noticed a marked aversion to using the word "transform" as a verb, or even as a noun. Optimus Prime no longer says, "Autobots, transform and roll out!", he just says, "Roll out!". Transformers no longer transform, they "convert". In fact, Transformers are no longer Transformers at all: they are "Transformers bots", the italics here serving to distinguish a registered trademark. This is because the worms in suits at Hasbro are worried that, if they continue to use the word "transform" by its dictionary definition—that is, to change—then rival toy companies will be able to make the case that anything that transforms can legally be described as a Transformer. It will become a generic trademark, like Velcro, or Band-Aid, or Dumpster.

Yet in Transformers One, "Transformers" is not just the noun by which the characters are referred to—rather, it's used in a descriptive sense to specifically mean "Cybertronians who can transform"! Characters are constantly talking about whether they can or can't transform. Prime gets to say his catchphrase in full. It's a miracle. Not only that, characters even get to say the word "kill" instead of "defeat" or "destroy".

Transformers One has a level of unrestricted creative freedom not seen since the 1986 animated film. This is a film unconstrained by location shooting, or licensing deals, or uncooperative actors; through the magic of CGI, for every single frame of its one-hour-thirty runtime, the filmmakers can put literally whatever they want on the screen. They were given the assignment, "Make an animated prequel set on Cybertron telling the origin story of Optimus Prime and Megatron", handed an estimated $147 million and a blank page, and told to go nuts. Like those born with transformation cogs, Transformers One had the power to become anything it wanted to be.

The 1986 animated film took that carte blanche to do whatever the fuck it wanted, and basically singlehandedly defined the direction of the franchise ever since. On a lore level, in terms of tone, I would say that Transformers owes practically everything to The Transformers: The Movie. Cartoons, comics, films, and video games have adapted every single one of its scenes countless times over. I'm not necessarily saying that it's a good film, or even that it's a particularly original film—much of it is ripped off from Star Wars—just that it took the franchise somewhere it hadn't gone before. It was looking to the future. As in, literally, it was set in 2005, at the time two decades into the future.

What gets me down about Transformers One is that—like most major franchise media released since The Force Awakens—all it can do is think about the past. Swathes of it are devoted to painstakingly recreating or setting up the various bits of iconography which have arbitrarily come to define the franchise. Even when it appears to be taking things in a new direction, it's not long before it course-corrects back into familiar territory: Steve Buscemi invents a surprisingly fresh take on Starscream's voice, and then Megatron half-strangles him to death, saddling him with a post-produced rasp to emulate Chris Latta's iconic performance from forty years ago.

The very title of the film, Transformers One, is an allusion to the line, "Till all are one," which originates in The Transformers: The Movie. In an early script for that '80s feature, it was actually "Till all life sparks are one", referring to a literal metaphysical process in that draft whereby one Transformer's life force could be passed on to another, presumably with the belief that they would all eventually be merged into a single afterlife. In the finalized story, it's just this kind of mystical phrase vaguely evoking concepts of togetherness and unity.

Transformers One brushes up against the phrase a couple of times. Alpha Trion almost says it at one point, when passing on his dead siblings' transformation cogs: "They were one. You are one. All are one!" Whatever that means. Later, Orion Pax starts a chant amongst the miners: "Together as one!" And finally, at the very end of the movie, during his obligatory film-ending monologue, Optimus Prime again goes: "And now, we stand here together... as one." (Half of Cybertron has just been banished to the surface forever.) "[...] Here, all are truly... Autobots." (Again, half of Cybertron- Optimus, what the fuck are you talking about?) Regardless, this is inexplicably the one instance where the movie doesn't twist itself up into knots trying to nail the exact phrasing.

Actually, there is one other sideways reference like this I can think of. Early in the film, Orion Pax is chatting up Elita, and he remarks, "Feel like I have enough power in my to drill down and touch Primus himself." To which Elita replies, "You don't have the touch or the power." This is kind of a nonsensical retort unless you know that in the 1986 movie, one of the most iconic songs on the soundtrack was "The Touch" by Stan Bush, which had the chorus line: "You got the touch! You got the power!" It's a banger. Anyway, remember when I said Darkwing gets chucked through an arcade cabinet? Well, here's Cooley revealing why that arcade cabinet is in the film:

I actually wrote [that exchange between Orion Pax and Elita] because I love that song. [...] And we had this one version where D-16 and Orion were playing a video game, like a stand-up old arcade game—it was inspired to look like that, but a Cybertonian version of that. They’re playing that together like friends and the song, like the 8-bit song that’s playing is ["The Touch"]. But that scene got nixed. And so I wanted to work it in there somewhere. And I just felt like a natural place for it. But that was one where I’m like, "I just love that song and those lyrics and that’s Transformers to me so I want to get that in there."

(I've had to amend that quote to fill in the blanks where the article has redacted "spoilers" for the movie. Spoiler culture is an absolute pox, I swear. Can't have the audiences knowing about one (1) mid joke in advance—the movie barely has enough jokes to fill a "Transformers One Funny Moments" compilation as it is!)

This actually isn't the first time Hasbro has "nixed" a reference to "The Touch" in major Transformers media. In the Transformers: Cyberverse episode "The Alliance", a character references "The Touch" right before a training montage which is clearly supposed to have the track playing, except instead it's been replaced by a generic rock instrumental, presumably because they couldn't afford the license. And in Daniel Warren Johnson's Eisner-award-winning bestselling comic run, there's one panel where he clearly wanted to include the song's lyrics as a sound effect, but wasn't allowed, so the final sound effect famously reads "YOU KNOW THE SONG". But that's a random episode of a bargain-bin cartoon, and an indie-darling comic series—not a $147 million blockbuster. You really have to wonder if it came down to money, or if it was something else. God knows Transformers One would not actually be improved for having a chiptune remix of "The Touch" in it, anyway.

The most egregious misplaced bit of fanwank in the film isn't even in dialogue. In the 1986 film, there's this one iconic moment when Optimus Prime arrives at the besieged Autobot City, drives through a crowd of Decepticons in truck mode, then fires some afterburners, launching his cab up into the air, where he transforms mid-leap, drawing his blaster to shoot a couple of Decepticons before hitting the ground. It's a fantastic bit of original animation. It's the Akira slide of Transformers. And, surprise surprise, it crops up in Transformers One. In the climactic final fight, Orion Pax shows up to save Megatron, and he does the thing.

But the problem is... he's not in truck mode! The film just cuts to him standing there in the middle of some anonymous mooks, then he does a standing jump into the air, the movie momentarily goes into extreme slow-mo like he's doing a fucking quick-time event, then he shoots a couple of guys and drops to the ground. There's no momentum. It exists purely to create that simulacrum, to take the single most iconic frame from that bit of 1986 animation, and stretch that one frame into infinity. The context is discarded, irrelevant. All that matters is that brief moment of recognition: "I know what that iiis!" God knows Transformers One has precious little in the way of impactful fight animation of its own; the choreography is stiff and uninspired, while the shots themselves are nauseatingly cluttered. Often, the best it can do is pilfer from older, better stories.

"Did you clap at any of the new moments and memorable characters?" "Were there any?"

Look, I get it. Transformers One is a prequel. By definition, it can't change the future. It has to play with the characters that are already in the toybox. But I do think it had this really special opportunity: to show theatregoers where the Transformers come from. To show us Cybertron not as a distant star or a barren scrapyard, but as a living, thriving alien world, unlike Earth, something special and worth protecting in its own right. Something new and memorable. In Rise of the Beasts—probably the best Transformers movie by default—when Optimus Prime is at his lowest, he wants nothing more to return home... but home is something we've only ever seen as a cold dystopia, ruled by Decepticons. The version of Transformers One I had hoped to see was one that would have imbued Optimus' homesickness with greater meaning. I wanted to feel his loss, and to hope that one day the war will end, and Cybertron can be restored.

I think Transformers One sincerely tries to achieve this effect. The concept artists have clearly put a great deal of time and thought into Cybertron as an environment. When the artbook comes out, I'm keen to see how much stuff didn't make it into the finished film. You have to assume most of it got cut, because there's next to nothing left!

At the end of the film, battle lines are drawn, the civil war is about to start... but strangely, the movie's setting does not convey the sense that anything beautiful is being lost. Nobody is unwillingly turned to violence, innocence-lost; they're all too eager to get to killing, friggin' Bumblebee is gleeful about it. There's no beautiful, iconic landmark, which gets tragically destroyed, like in some kind of Transformers 9/11—"What have we done! Where will this war take us!". There's no part of Cybertron's natural ecological environment to be ruined by the war, because the surface world is already turbofucked by the Quintessons to begin with. No, rather, we have the total opposite: Optimus Prime finding the Matrix (which was just, like, hanging out in the core of Cybertron or whatever) actually restores Energon to the planet, removing the unnatural scarcity which was the entire impetus behind the film's dystopia. He made Cybertron great again. So again, Transformers One fails to answer one of the most fundamental questions one might expect of a Transformers prequel: "When did things on Cybertron get so bad?" The movie ends with the planet in better shape to how it started!

The big original idea that Transformers One has is that Cybertron, the planet itself, should be in a constant state of transformation. I've already talked about the beautiful shapeshifting landscapes, but it's also the moving buildings, the complicated mechanisms, the roads and rails that magically lay themselves between the vehicles and their destinations. I've already mentioned how odd I find it that none of these environmental transformations have any significance to the story; the closest it comes to some sort of payoff is when Orion Pax falls into the hole that makes you king.

What I find most perplexing are the deer. When the gang makes it to the surface, the idea is to show the natural beauty of the surface, which the cogless have been denied their whole lives. The mountains glisten as they move. Nebulae glow in the night sky. The surface is blanketed in organic (?) plantlife, like a watering can forgotten in a garden. And, most strikingly, there are deer: mechanical animals, just like those found on Earth, being hunted for sport by the evil Quintessons. When the cruisers near, their glowing horns turn red with alarm, and they prance around in fear.

I'm reminded of a brief gag from the third season of Transformers: Cyberverse—one of very few shows to have devoted any serious effort to Cybertronian worldbuilding—in the episode "Thunderhowl". Bumblebee and Chromia stumble across a "singlehorn" (read: unicorn), and when it senses danger, it neighs, transforms into a rocket, and blasts out of frame. And apart from being really cute and funny, it's like, oh, of course that's what animals are like on Cybertron! Everything on this planet transforms. Why not the animals?

For whatever reason, the deer in Transformers One are like the one thing that don't transform. Why the hell not? If Cyberverse could find the budget for its split-second sight gag, surely this blockbuster could, I don't know, have them turn into dirt bikes with antler-handlebars. That would've been something, right? If not, then at least could we maybe see some other animals on Cybertron, to really get across that alien biodiversity? Of course not. See, the deer exist to communicate one very specific story beat: a single moment of trepidation, where the heroes know there's danger nearby, but they don't know what. And all you need for that is a single kind of prey animal, with some kind of warning light to let you know, hey, there's danger! Once this purpose is fulfilled, the deer have no further significance to the story.

We need only look to BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui to see this exact same beat play out with a modicum of competence and creative flair. Also in the second act—in fact, at practically the exact same timestamp—our heroes, the Toa, have a run-in with the bad guys, and they're nearly captured... but then there's this sudden rumble of danger approaching, we don't know what. It turns out to be a herd of giant Kikanalo! They send the bad guys packing, except they nearly trample our heroes too! But then, Toa Nokama's mask begins to glow, and she discovers that her mask grants her the ability to talk to animals. They learn some vital information from the Kikanalo, and are able to ride the creatures for the next stage of their adventure. Finally, when they can go no further, the Kikanalo cave in the passage behind the heroes to ensure they won't be pursued. Holy shit, that's like, five different story beats with just that one type of creature!

It's not just that Transformers One struggles with that kind of basic narrative flow, where a single element serves multiple purposes. It's that often, it wastes precious time creating redundant setups to achieve the same effect twice.

For example, Megatronus Prime's face happens to look exactly like (what we know will be) the Decepticon insignia. At the beginning of the movie, Orion Pax mollifies Megatron by giving him a rare decal of Megatronus Prime's face. Traditionally, Megatron wears his insignia in the middle of his chest—but in this film, nearly every character has a big hole in the middle of their chest, where their missing transformation cog should go. So Megatron sticks the decal on his shoulder instead.

Later, he gets a cog, and the hole in his chest is filled. When Sentinel Prime captures Megatron, he notices the Megatronus sticker, and rips it off. Then, he re-applies it on Megatron's chest—purely so it's in the "right" place for the iconography. And then, he uses his gun to crudely brand Megatron with a tracing of Megatronus' face, inadvertently creating the Decepticon symbol. Finally, in a post-credits scene, Megatron has fashioned a proper Decepticon brand with which to brand himself and his followers. So in effect, there are four separate moments where Megatron gets the symbol! Orion sticking it on his shoulder, Sentinel moving it to his chest, Sentinel mutilating him, and finally Megatron branding himself. You can make an argument that the symbol starts out meaning one thing, but ends up meaning another thing, which has a kind of tragic significance—but I think you would struggle to distinguish subtle shades of meaning from all four of these brandings. Considering the movie only has an hour and a half to work with, I find this lack of narrative economy to be honestly embarrassing.

(My friend Jo also points out what a misstep it is to just have Megatronus Prime's face perfectly resemble the Decepticon symbol from the start. Had it been a looser, more stylised—that is to say, original—design, the moment where Sentinel Prime roughly carves it into Megatron's chest could be a shocking reveal, as the basic outlines are abstracted and simplified. Gasp, that's the origin of the Decepticon symbol! Instead, from the very moment that sticker first shows up, it's like... oh, well, there it is I guess.)

In a similar vein, both Optimus Prime and Megatron undergo two different transformations at different points in the movie: first, when Alpha Trion gives them transformation cogs, and second, when respectively they obtain the Matrix of Leadership/Megatronus' cog. The gun that sprouts from Megatron's arm in his intermediary form bears a much closer to resemblance to his iconic "fusion cannon" than the triple-barrelled cannon he ends up with in his final form. Again, in such a short film, can we really say whatever subtlety this brings to Megatron's arc is worth all this fanfare? Now, Redditors ask: "What is the EXACT moment D-16 became Megatron?"

In fact, probably the only point of criticism I've seen levied at Transformer One from within the Transformers fandom at large is that Megatron's arc is maybe a little "rushed". He starts out being best bros forever with Orion Pax, and by the end of the film, he's ready to drop the guy into a bottomless pit. The film takes a lot of time to justify his anger at Sentinel Prime, but the deterioration of his friendship with Orion goes much more unspoken, and is framed more as a point of irrationality: psychologically, Megatron comes to conflate his bossy friend with his oppressive ruler. I liked this, personally. I liked that it's as if a switch gets flipped in Megatron's head. But you do just kind of have to buy into it. The film itself does not put in the work to really sell you on the friendship souring, because again, it's too busy fucking around with two (2) magical girl transformation sequences for each of them.

Everything in the film is like this. They go into the cave and meet Alpha Trion, then leave the cave so they can watch a FMV cutscene with Sentinel Prime and the Quintessons, who've coincidentally arrived at that exact moment, basically just to rehash what they've just been told... and then they go back into the cave so Alpha Trion can resume his infodump, and then they end up clashing with Sentinel Prime's forces once that's done. At the beginning of the movie, they're at the very bottom in the mines, then they get banished to an even lower level, then they banish themselves all the way up to the surface, then they return to Iacon, and then Megatron gets banished to the surface again so he can be mesmerized by the beauty of the world and/or get gunched by Quintessons depending on what the film wanted me to take away from this. Compare to Minecraft but I survive in PARKOUR CIVILIZATION [FULL MOVIE], where the theme of class struggle is pretty efficiently depicted in the vertically-stratified setting.

I just find it so wasteful. Outside of the one scene where they're introduced, the Quintessons—ostensibly the true architects of Cybertron's oppressive status quo—may as well not exist. If not for Orion Pax addressing his closing remarks to the Quintessons, almost as an afterthought, I'd assume the film wants us to forget about them entirely, as it knows full well that its paltry runtime does not give it time for a second action-climax against the aliens. Even as sequel bait, it feels halfhearted at best; Josh Cooley is clearly already bored of Transformers, and seems unlikely to come back for another round unless the money is really really good (which *glances at the box office* it's not). So what the fuck are the Quintessons here for? Was the idea that Sentinel might just have pulled off his coup singlehandedly really so hard to stomach? Could the conspiracy not have been simplified to just involve Sentinel and his Transformer cronies? Hang on, are all the Transformers seen at the start of the film in on it, or just some of them? How's it decided who keeps their cogs and who doesn't?

VI. Into nothing

Why does this movie, where the main selling point is ostensibly that we're getting to see Transformers civilization for the first time, mostly focus on all these guys who can't fucking transform? Surely the entire thing that makes the setting fun is the Zootopia angle of, look, they're all different animals! Or the Elemental angle of, look, they're all different elements! Or the Emoji Movie angle of, look, they're all different emoji! Or the Cars angle of, look, they're all different cars! This is a Transformers film which features several significant sequences involving these cool trains, and there is absolutely zero indication that these trains are themselves Transformers. This is a Transformers film which extensively focuses on miners, and none of them transform into mining vehicles; they're holding, friggin', space jackhammers. Even the premise of "isn't it sad that these ones can't transform" is kind of undercut by the fact that all the miners get to wear fucking jetpacks, which is a frankly much cooler and more effective method of locomotion than driving.

I'm just sick of Transformers stories having zero interest in the basic premise of Transformers, which is to say, they transform into something. I also think this is the biggest dissonance between casual audiences, who think "oh yeah, Optimus Prime, that guy who turns into a truck", and Transformers fans, who think, "oh yeah, Optimus Prime, the messiah or something". Normal people love to know what the Transformers turn into. They ask, "Wait, is there a Transformer that turns into [insert silly vehicle here]?" Of course people are interested in that angle! Vehicles are such a huge part of our daily lives—honestly, for those of us living in cities, more so than animals, the classical elements, or emoji—but the closest Transformers One comes to engaging with this lens is that aforementioned Iacon 5000 race sequence. By and large, it presents a world which is made for standing up and walking around. And personally I do think that's an insane approach to take?

Is the excuse that cars can't emote? Nonsense. If you've ever seen a traffic jam, you'll know that cars can sure as hell emote. Pixar, where Josh Cooley cut his teeth, famously spent a lot of time working out how to put a facial expression on a car. No, the problem dates back to the very start of the franchise.

In the 1980s, two main people were responsible for writing the comic stories: American writer Bob Budiansky, and British writer Simon Furman. Budiansky approached the premise of the franchise from an external, human perspective, writing about culture clash, and taking delight in the Transformers' mechanical alien nature as "robots in disguise". Meanwhile, Furman wrote the Transformers as giant people: he focused on their own internal conflicts and motivations, and the grand history of their war. Pretty much every Transformers story ever told can be boiled down to one of these schools of thought: Budianskyist, or Furmanist.

Budiansky quit the comic after fifty issues, allowing Furman to take the reigns as sole writer, and Furman basically got the final word on what the Transformers are. They did not evolve from naturally-occurring gears, levers and pulleys. They were not designed by a supercomputer, or built by an alien race. They are the chosen sons of God. The Thirteen are, of course, an invention of Furman's. And Transformers One is perhaps the most Furmanist story ever told. It's the culmination of years and years of lore building up, ossifying into something you can no longer describe as the history of a universe—no, this is a mythology. It's the most perfect form of brand alignment imaginable: this is not an origin story, this is the origin story. It's been the origin story for a better part of the decade—and now that everyone's seen it in theatres, it will be the origin story forever.

It's not just the fiction, either, by the way. These days, if you go into the store to buy a Transformers toy, chances are it'll turn into some misshapen made-up futuristic concept car with unpainted windows and wheels that don't even roll—and that's terrible.

There's truly a lot to hate about Michael Bay's Transformers films, but with each new entry that's released following his departure from the franchise, I feel like I only find myself appreciating them more. In the 2007 Transformers movie, we see the Transformers crash-landing on Earth in their "protoforms", and their movements are animated like they're shy, like they're naked until they scan an Earth vehicle and adopt a disguise. The visual impact of Megatron, meanwhile, is that he doesn't adopt a disguise in that movie: he's a horrible metal skeleton that turns into a jet made of knives. It's weird and alien and it rules.

In the 1980s Transformers cartoon, and in the last-minute Cybertron-set prologue added to Bumblebee, and now in Transformers One, the Transformers look basically the same on Cybertron as they eventually do upon their arrival to Earth. Optimus Prime turns, unmistakably, into a truck. He has windows on his chest, and smokestacks on his arms. He doesn't have these features because he disguises himself as an Earth truck. He has those details because that's just what Optimus Prime looks like. They're his "essential brand elements", or "trademark details", which "identify the must-have elements in character design to be carried across all creative expressions". Prime may take any form he wishes, so long as it looks exactly like himself. A mask of my own face—I'd wear that.

What I find fucked up about the reception towards Transformers One is that a lot of people seemed very invested in its success—and not its popular success, certainly not its artistic success, but rather its commercial success. They wanted this to be the first film to make one bumblebillion dollars. They wanted Hasbro to line its fucking pockets and make movies like this forever. So if you express any kind of negativity towards this film online, which might theoretically affect some other person's decision of whether or not to go and see it, which might theoretically affect the profit it makes at the cinema, which might theoretically affect the future of the franchise in some unknown way, then you're some sort of fandom traitor who oughta be executed.

If you're so worried about the future of the franchise, the fandom really isn't where you should be looking. Like, c'mon, the Transformers fandom has been good as gold, we buy so many toys. Meanwhile, Hasbro just got finished laying off around 100 employees with no warning to make their books look a bit better. Transformers designer John Warden—who'd worked at Hasbro for 25 years, is widely credited with inventing the modern paradigm of Transformers toylines, and ultimately became the creative director of both Transformers and G.I. Joe—was on assignment to a convention in the UK with the rest of the Transformers team when he heard the news. Suffice to say, he did not end up making a public appearance at the convention. With his work's health insurance snatched away without notice, he's had to resort to crowdfunding to pay his family's medical bills. As a well-known figure in the toy industry, he will presumably find a new job and land on his feet, but the same cannot be said for all 99 of the remaining employees we're told have been unceremoniously dumped.

The Binder of Revelation, which has been something of a holy grail of behind-the-scenes material for over a decade, has finally been leaked—presumably by one of these guys, presumably out of spite.

Now, I'm not going to pretend to have been paying particularly close attention to Hasbro's financials, but from where I'm sitting, it sure seems that ever since the sudden death of then-CEO Brian Goldner in 2021—credited for saving the company in 2000, and overseeing the explosive growth of its intellectual property ever since then—his replacement, Chris P. Cocks (or "Crispy Cocks", as we're all now calling him), has been dead set on gutting the company for all it's worth. The Power Rangers franchise, which the company acquired for $522 million in 2018, is dead in the water, with huge quantities of physical assets being flogged at auction for quick cash. In 2019, they acquired the entertainment company eOne for $4.0 billion, and now they're selling off the whole shebang (except the cash-printing Peppa Pig franchise) for just $500 million. I guess maybe they just fucked it big style?

Because now, Crispy Cocks has proudly announced that Hasbro is going to stop financing movies altogether.

I'm sure that in the wake of this announcement, many of those aforementioned fandom pundits will be drawing a correlation between this announcement, and the box-office figures for Transformers One, and the fact that you personally failed to convince your Mom to go see it with you or whatever. "Ah, you see! They didn't make enough of their money back, and now they're consolidating. Simple economic cause and effect. Market forces." And look, I'm not going to sit here and claim these things are wholly unrelated. Of course they're very related. But I am going to make the case that, in truth, nobody at Hasbro really cared how Transformers One did. Unless it turned out to be some pie-in-the-sky runaway hit, I don't think the future of the Transformers film franchise would've been particularly different if only the film had done better.

With Paramount, Hasbro has been making these movies and having them underperform ever since 2017's The Last Knight—which apparently lost Paramount $100 million—and that's because at the end of the day, what they're most interested in isn't making movies. It's making toy commercials. And on that level, the Transformers films have clearly been a success so far.

Now, Crispy Cocks' skinsuit fashions itself as a gamer, so he can personify Hasbro's hardcore pivot towards digital and tabletop gaming. While we await the release of the assuredly-dogshit, assuredly-hell-to-have-worked-on, assuredly-never-coming-out Transformers: Reactivate, the brand has been whored out to a procession of mobile games you've never heard of, glorified gambling machines designed to hack the monkey part of your brain with bright colors and Things You Recognize. The exact content of these games is irrelevant; all that matters is the announcement, on every single pop culture news outlet simultaneously (naturally—they're all owned by the same company, talk about Monopoly), of New Collaboration Between Transformers And Goon Warriors Free To Download Now. Your daily, weekly, bi-annual reminder to think about that thing you can buy.

That's all any of this stuff is.

All these words spilled about what a good movie Transformers One is, and how bad it is, and why the marketing failed it, and what the next one might be like, and- none of it mattered! It does not matter. From the beginning, this movie was always going to be too preoccupied with its own mercenary interests to be something anyone would ever be able to seriously talk about as a work of art, even corporate art. The actual content of the movie is irrelevant; I've spent very little of this review talking about it, because there's nothing there to talk about. It is the mere fact of the movie's existence that serves its purpose. Like the Optimus Prime Fortnite skin, it's enough for it to occupy our attention.

Maybe that's why they staggered the film's release date: because some marketing exec watched the rough cut and realised, if everyone saw it at once, we'd be done talking about it within a fortnight. And in ten years' time, after it has been paraded around whichever streaming services survive 'til then, and nearly every last cent of revenue has been squeezed out of it, the kids will be able to watch it on YouTube with ad breaks, and decide what they want for Christmas.

To the Transformers fans reading this, I am begging you, unless you happen to own shares in Hasbro for some fucking reason, to disabuse yourself of the feeling that you owe any kind of loyalty to a toy franchise. It shouldn't matter to you one jot how Transformers One did in theatres. The people who actually make the product you care about, the friendly faces paraded before you on livestreams and press tours, don't see this money anyway—they too are merely assets, who can be fired and replaced with cheaper, inferior equivalents.

I'm sure many of you will have, from the very start, seen this review for the foolish endeavour it is. I've wasted all this time criticising Transformers One for its lack of artistic vision, when the truth is, Transformers One is playing an entirely different game. Like the Disney Channel running "Fishy Facts!" segments to subliminally get kids interested in fish a full year and a half before the release of Finding Nemo, this is not a product—it's an ad for a product.

...

Okay I'll be honest, I don't entirely love where this review has ended up. It ends on kind of a "bummer note", I guess you could say. Flashing back to sections I. and II., I feel like things started out so fun. We had that whole bit at the start where I was telling you about the Transformers, remember that? We learned so much together. And there were even a few moments where I was able to express some kind of sincere joy and appreciation over this thing that I supposedly adore so much. Sure, I did a lot of complaining, but it was fun complaining, right? It had like, a sarcastic edge to it, sort of.

What happened? Why am I suddenly talking like I want to cut someone's head off? As I grow more bitter, I type this essay with increasing difficulty. The massive gun that's sprouted from my forearm keeps colliding with my monitor.

Hasbro descends from on high to reward @TFHypeGuy, a grown-ass adult who has spent untold unpaid hours fearlessly replying to every single viral tweet to tell people to go see the film, somehow netting himself 80,000 followers in the process, with a crate of toys, which was probably his end goal from the start. He and I duel. We trade blow after blow. Finally, he clobbers me with a Walmart-exclusive light-up Ultimate Energon Optimus Prime figure. "It didn't have to end this way," he says. Then he banishes me to the surface world to think on my sins.

VII. The Wrong Trousers 👖 | Train Chase Scene 🚂 | Wallace & Gromit

When Eric Pearson came onto the project,

It was late middle of the game. They had a script that had the outline of the story, which is still very much the structural bones of the story now. But what I found interesting about animation is there are certain things that were far along in the process. The train escape to the surface was very far along, so that was just kind of locked. Maybe you could change a line here or there. Meanwhile, the opening, the whole first 10 minutes, was all storyboards and sketches, which changed a bunch of times.

And I do think that's a really difficult position for a scriptwriter to be in. Sure, the parts of the screenplay I feel able to attribute to Pearson, I wasn't particularly impressed by. But I think this anecdote goes to show how unnatural the constraints can be on a story like this. When you think of like, a scene that's key to Transformers One, you're probably imagining something like the Megatron/Optimus fight, or the scene in the mine—not the train scene, which is basically a bit of arbitrary connective tissue bridging the two main locations in the film.

Josh Cooley, the film's director, the face of the film on the press circuit from a creative standpoint, came onboard after five years of previous development work was already done. Writers Andrew Barrer and Gabriel Ferrari, who originally pitched the film and presumably wrote the early drafts of the story, might have already left the project by that point. Aaron Archer and Rik Alvarez, the creative forces behind the Binder of Revelation, left Hasbro years before the film was even pitched. It's no wonder to me that the final result feels incoherent, disjointed, and oddly stilted. It's certainly no wonder that nobody at Hasbro today really seems to care about the film; it's not their baby. If any of the people credited with bringing the project to completion had been given full creative freedom to make whatever Transformers movie they wanted, it would've looked completely different.

Luckily, there are still plenty of areas of the franchise where creators have just been allowed to go ham. Over in Japan, TRIGGER has taken a modest budget for a music-video and produced one of the most visually-striking bits of animation in the franchise, a true love-letter to all the weird parts of its forty-year history. And in America, comic creator Daniel Warren Johnson is halfway through his Eisner-winning new run on the title, which is the kind of thing I would basically recommend to anyone without caveats as being a phenomenal story, period. If that comic can be said to be an advert for anything, it's for Skybound's other, nowhere-near-as-good comic series, or for the unofficial unlicensed copyright-infringing Magic Square Optimus Prime toy Daniel Warren Johnson apparently used as reference the whole time.

I dunno, maybe Hasbro stepping back from financing these films is a good thing, in the long run. Maybe we can do without Transformers movies for a while. And however many years down the line, maybe Paramount or some other studio will put together a new team of talent, and they'll get to do whatever it is they want. And maybe the movie they make will be the one that knocks everyone's socks off.

Truly, I don't know where the road leads from here. It hasn't been built yet. It could turn out to go anywhere.

If you made it this far, I hope some of what I've said has been entertaining or interesting. Thanks for reading!

Time to for me to come clean. There is one other reason why I've waited so long to release this review... and that's because I have a special announcement to make. Last month I set myself a little challenge: to write something that's at least as long as this review, but which isn't another negative-nancy tirade. It's a story.

The working title is "Ice Road Transformers". It's like an episode of that one reality TV show about Canadians driving trucks across frozen lakes—except the truck is Optimus Prime.

Early reviews say it's good! It'll be going through several rounds of revisions, to turn it into a well-oiled machine, hopefully in time for a seasonally-appropriate wide release in February. I'm very excited for you to be able to read it. You can follow me here or on Bluesky to be the first to find out when it's ready!

I'd like to thank my friends Jo and Umar for their work interviewing Cooley and di Bonaventura during the film's press circuit, along with Viv, Callum, and Omar for allowing me to enjoy this film much more than I otherwise might have. I wouldn't have been able to express many of my feelings about this movie nearly so cogently if not for the conversations I had with them. Additional thanks go to Chris McFeely, as his Transformers: The Basics videos (linked throughout this essay) refreshed my memory on a lot of the Aligned stuff, sparing me from having to read The Covenant of Primus again.

#transformers #transformers one #movie review #essay

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fishfooddude · 5 months ago

Text

No Phone Policy 3.0

Baby girl Berzatto needed a metal name, and this felt like the choice, ya know?

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 2

“Hi, beautiful… oh, this is hella trippy buggies. I remember holding you for the first time, and now I’m holding my granddaughter for the first time…” your Dad laughed as he stared down at the tiny pink bundle in his arms. You smiled as you watched him pace beside your bed. “Where’s Carmy? I have a present for this little princess—I’m surprised he isn’t glued to her, or you, for that matter.”

You grinned as you adjusted yourself in the incredibly uncomfortable hospital bed you’d been in for the past 48 hours. “He went home to grab me some stuff I forgot.” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t see through your bluff. With a narrow stare, your Dad nodded. He could tell you weren’t telling him something, but he didn’t want to upset you by pushing the topic.

“Well, what did you two name this perfect little angel?” your Dad questioned as he handed you your daughter. You shrugged, “Haven’t decided yet… the papers are over there on the table, but we can’t decide.”

“What were you two thinkin’? I’m team something unique and magical, especially since that lil girl was born on one of the most magical days of the year.” he smiled, putting a hand over his chest. You chuckled and adjusted the infant in your arms.

“July 23. Best day of your life.” you answered, “You know, I know the story by heart… but she hasn’t heard it yet.” the sing-song nature of your comment made your Dad lean forward in his chair. “Baby’s first Grandpa story! May I?” he asked, offering his hands to you. You laughed as you handed the baby back to him.

“I better get my daughter back, Dad,” you playfully scolded as he held her close to his chest. He shrugged and responded, “No promises. She’s my new favorite person in the world—your Ma and sisters, and the boys are a very close second, but right now—it’s all her.”

“You hear that gorgeous? Grandpa has known you for 30 minutes, and your greatness has already superseded your Mommy’s. You’re my perfect lil angel.” he cooed. As he babbled at her, you rolled your eyes, “Tell the story, Grandpa.”

He scoffed in your direction before turning on the story-telling voice he would use when telling your nephews' stories. “The year was 1986. Your Grandpa was traveling with one of the greatest bands mankind will ever know, Van Halen. Metallica is also a pretty fuckin’ awesome choice for music- don’t let your Daddy ruin your taste in music, princess. You will be my little metalhead.”

“Dad.” you scolded. He shot you an exasperated look, “He’s not even here bonding with his daughter. I’m GOING to shit on his shitty taste in music.” he challenged. He noticed your subtle wince when he brought up Carmy for a second time. Something was going on, but he didn’t dare bring it up, “Ok, ok, I’ll stop shittin’ on Carmy. Back to baby’s first Grandpa story.” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair and adjusting the baby in his arms.

“Grandpa was in St. Louis. I’d followed Van Halen for 12 weeks across the continental United States. I was broke as shit, hungry as hell, and I STANK. I’m at the truck stop right- there’s this little diner called Olivette. I ordered the cheapest breakfast I could, and at the end of my meal- this GORGEOUS waitress brought me a piece of gooey butter cake- a Missouri delicacy, in time you’ll have your fair share, princess.” he assured the gurgling bundle in his arms, “The waitress goes, ‘it’s on the house sugar’ in this cute ass little twang and I about died. That was your Grandma Dottie.”

You smiled as he continued the story. He went in to explain how he’d worked up the courage to ask her if she was going to the Van Halen show that night, and when she said ‘yes,’ he knew she was the one. You laughed as he explained that his mutual love of music had brought him an amazing life.

“I met Dottie on July 23, 1986, so the fact you were born on July 23, 2024, is a sign. I think I can convince your Mommy to give you a metal ass name. Auntie Pamala was named after Panama- the best Van Halen song. Your Mommy’s middle name is Olivette because that’s where I met your Grandma. Then Auntie Mars is Mars because Grandma wouldn’t let me name her after Lars Ulrich, but Mars was acceptable.” you laughed as your Dad explained the Y/L/N family lure. “Your Auntie Pam is my favorite, though- she named her boys after Eddie and Alex Van Halen.”

You rolled your eyes. “I love you, Daddy, but I’m not naming my daughter after Van Halen or Metalica.” He scoffed in response. What about Pantera or Megadeath? I’m just sayin’ with a last name like Bearzatto. She needs a metal-ass name.”

You laughed as you collected your daughter back from him, “Okay, buggies, I love you, and I’m really proud of you. Not just for procreating but for everything you’ve done. Your Ma would be real proud, too.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t have a name yet?” your sister Pam laughed as she cradled your daughter in her arms. You shrugged, “We just can’t decide.”

“Didn’t he insist on some Van Halen reference?” Mason, Pam’s husband, laughed as he entered the room with a brown paper bag. You shook your head, “He gave her three band onesies, but I think I got out of the Van Halen references.”

Mason shook his head as he placed the bag on the end of your bed, “I wasn’t sure what you’d be cravin’, but I figured a sub and chips was a safe bet.” he grinned. “Thanks, Mason.”

“What about Jade Van? Dad would freak over the reference.” your baby sister Mars laughed as she put her head on your shoulder, and she snuggled closer to you, craning her neck to get a better look at your still-unnamed daughter. You shook your head, “I don’t know how Carmy would feel about that one.”

“Bitch. He isn’t even here. Name her whatever the fuck you want.” she said with an overly dramatic eye roll. Mars was the only one who knew about the issues you and Carmy had been going through, but you couldn’t stomach telling her that Carmy missed the birth.

“How about Blade? Blade Berzatto—fuckin’ metal, right?” you joked, trying to brush Carmy out of your mind. Mars erupted into laughter,, which startled the baby in your arms. You cradled the baby and nudged Mars to shut up. “I love it. But let’s go more norm-core,” Mars said as she ran her thumb against the baby’s chubby cheek.

“Are you an Erin? Jasper? Kali? Luna?” you listed off baby names as you did skin-to-skin after the baby’s afternoon feeding. You were finally done with visitors for the day, and you’d turned your phone off to avoid dealing with Carmy. You’d inevitably have to talk to him at one point, but having at least one more day of peace was a priority right now. You didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but it was a safe assumption that he was probably working himself to the bone at The Bear. The Bear… Bear… “Wolf.” the name came to you. “Wolf Berzatto… Daddy goes by Bear. We were calling cub while I was pregnant… you don’t call baby wolves cubs, but I like it. You do need a middle name, though. I know Daddy liked the name Bonnie.” you rattled off before leaning over to kiss the baby’s hat-covered head.

“What if you hate the name Wolf? I mean, you could go by your middle name or a nickname… Daddy’s name is Carmen, but he goes by Carmy. Okay, Wolf Bonnie Berzatto. I like it, and if Daddy doesn’t, he can suck my dick. Am I swearing too much around you? I feel like I am.” you laughed, “Okay… also, you’re only getting your Daddy’s last name because I changed my last name when I married him.”

“Wolf… that’s quite a name,” Natalie awkwardly complimented, trying not to pass too much judgment on her niece. She can go by Bonnie if she hates it.” You defended your name choice for the hundredth time in the short eight hours since announcing her name to your family group chat. Turning your phone back on had been anxiety-inducing. Carmy had left you hundreds of texts and voicemails begging to be allowed in the hospital room and apologizing for anything and everything he could think of. It was endearing, but you were still pissed off.

“Does Carmy know about the name choice?” Natalie carefully prodded as she watched you shove stuff into your bag. You shook your head, “I haven’t talked to him yet.”

Natalie knew you hadn’t talked to him and knew about you barring him from the hospital. He came back to the restaurant. Natalie had seen Carmy upset in the past, but this was a different kind of upset. He went off on Richie about the ‘no phone policy’ he’d enforced on all staff. Carmy was never a fighter, but Marcus and Sweeps had to hold him back after Carmy had punched Richie in the side of the head. Richie, visibly disorientated, screamed a ‘what the fuck’ alerting the kitchen staff of the fight going on in the thankfully empty front of house. It took a while for Carmy to calm down enough to tell anyone what had happened. Richie apologized but said Carmy missed the birth, which wasn’t his fault. It was Carmy’s fault. Richie went off about Carmy knowing your due date and how he should’ve planned better and asked for an exception to the rule.

Natalie sighed, remembering how that comment had riled Carmy up again. She drove him home while he called you repeatedly, getting progressively more upset each time his call went to voicemail. “She can’t do this to me, Sugar- I know I fucked up, but-but she can’t-” Carmy stopped midsentence and began rocking himself forward and backward in his seat. “Carmy, wh-wh-what can I do? How can I help you?” Natalie begged as she parked in the driveway of the house you two owned. “Do you have a fuckin’ time machine so I can go back and not miss the birth of my fuckin’ daughter!” he screamed, making Natalie freeze in her seat.

Natalie stayed with Carmy the entire time you were in the hospital. He was a mess. He flipped between extreme rage and full-blown panic. He ranted about how you were going to leave him and prevent him from seeing his daughter. He cried so hard he threw up multiple times. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t eating. Natalie had never seen her brother like this before and was at a loss for what to do.

When you called her to come pick you and the baby up from the hospital, she didn’t know what to say. You’d asked her not to tell or bring Carmy, which she understood, but it still conflicted her. You hadn’t filled her in on Carmy’s minimal involvement with your pregnancy the past weeks, but Natalie could put two and two together. After enlisting the help of Syd and Richie, Natalie felt as if she could leave Carmy and come pick you up.

“Are you okay, Nat?” you questioned as you strapped Wolf into her car seat. It’s nothin’. I just feel really guilty that I’m meeting my niece before Carmy had the chance to…” Natalie explained as she crossed her arms over her stomach. You knew Natalie had a point. You felt that same guilt. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle with your husband and daughter.

You sighed, “Well, I guess I have to talk to Carmy at one point, so let’s go.”

Part 4

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icarusredwings · 2 months ago

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Getting deep into the x men fandom means seeing ships I don't agree with, so I don't interact, seeing posts that mischaraterizes one of the deepest charaters possible, so I don't interact, Seeing people actively say things that are blatantly wrong, so I don't interact.

Getting a large following is also kind of frustrating (Im not complaining I love you guys!) But I've had to block 2 people already today because they keep leaving rude replies to my comments on OTHER peoples posts or purposly come to my blog to tell me that how I view a charater is wrong. Had someone tell me that the stuff that happens in MY au is dumb because "that would never happen" like yeah bud. The writers at Marvel are too much of cowards for it to happen, hence why i'm here.

So my thing is... if im chosing not to interact with all of this- why is it still on my feed?

I feel like the more I ignore it the more I see and I do not wish to be the type to block someone simply because they make one post about a ship that personally isn't my cup of tea.

Also- I think Im starting to see the different sides of extremes, especially when it comes to one specifc charater.

Logan.

I have seen dozens of lovely stories, lovely rants, lovely head canons about this man-

But something that feels weird (to me at least) is people who are 45+ yelling at people who aren't even 18 that their story/headcanons are trash because they've "been enjoying Logan for 40+ years" as if this gives them any right to tell a 17 year old that they shouldnt write a charater how they see them.

It's also weird to me that there seems to be two sides.

Logan IS an animal and that's perfectly okay.

Logan ISN'T an animal, and everyone who headcanons him as animalistic is fetishizing his mutation and are insulting him.

I get not liking a certain trope, but sir, that person is young enough to be your child. You have to accept that we all grew up with different versions of each charater. I Personally didn't grow up with any and get the luxury of indulging in all sorts of media all at once- therefore getting to see him from multiple sides and pictures.

I completely understand if you grew up with the original series and are upset to see that kids are headcanoning your stone cold angst biker man as wearing bow clips and 'making biscuits' on a pillow while watching gilmore girl with his boyfriend, and wearing pink fluffy hello kitty pants and a tight shirt that says "Milk"

I completely understand if you grew up with the movies and see him as a sexy gruff hot buff man and you love to write lots and lots of steamy x reader about him.

I completely understand if you LIKE logan wearing hello kitty pants and don't agree with the idea of him being a dark edgelord, lone wolf charater.

Do you know what I don't understand? Fighting over a charater when different timelines have been canon since the 80s. The Time Variance Authority (TVA) first appeared in Thor #372 (October 1986) which means ALL of your logans are the correct logan. Just not all the same.

Do I think Wolverine Orgins Logan would wear pink hello kitty pants? Nah.

Do I know that Deadpool and wolverine Logan is a whole different universe then Orgins Logan? Yes.

That's why people tag different logans and different aus. So what is all the fuss about?? What happened to the more the merrier?

Theres so many different versions of comic book logan, too, so don't even go there.

Feel free to ask my personal opinions but as far as I stand I could never be foolish enough to seriously go into someone elses post and genuinely be upset at them for how they perceive a charater. I get second hand embaressment when ever I see ANYONE doing it.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I don't care if I lose followers for this. Let the door hit you on the way out. There aint no reason to be harrassing folks.

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heroesriseandfall · 2 months ago

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Introduction to Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying, April 1990

Introduction by Dennis O'Neil for Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (1990 collected edition)

Transcription below the cut/readmore.

INTRODUCTION by DENNIS O'NEIL

Robin was gone. We needed a new Boy Wonder. There had been two previous Robins. The original first appeared less than a year after a new costumed hero called Batman made his debut in DETECTIVE COMICS #27, to instant success. Some time within the next eleven months, his creators, artist Bob Kane and his writer-collaborator Bill Finger, decided to give their dark, obsessed hero a kind of surrogate son, Robin, who was hailed on the cover of DETECTIVE #36 as “the sensational character-find of 1940—Robin, The Boy Wonder.” Over the next 40 years, Batman’s fortunes varied: always, however, Robin was at Batman’s side.

He served a couple of functions. If Batman were real (and it may shock some of our more avid readers to learn he isn’t), and if he were the grim, obsessed loner he is often portrayed as, Robin, with some help from Batman's faithful butler Alfred, would keep him sane; a man whose every waking hour is focused on the grimmest aspects of society, who is unable to release the effects of seeing his parents murdered, whose life is an amalgam of sudden violence and lonely vigilance, would soon skew into a nasty insanity if he did not have someone to care for, someone to maintain a link with common humanity. But Batman is, of course, not real. (My apologies to avid readers.) He isn’t exactly a fictional character—more on that shortly—but he does not and could not exist as a living, breathing human being. That doesn’t make Robin any less useful: he serves the same functions in the Batman stories as Watson served in the Sherlock Holmes canon and the gravedigger serves in Hamlet: like Holmes’s faithful doctor, Robin is a sounding board, a person with whom the hero can have dialogues and thus let the reader know how brilliantly he’s handling matters and like the gravedigger, he occasionally provides a bright note in an otherwise relentlessly morose narrative.

Which is why I was a trifle uneasy when we—the editorial staff of DC Comics—decided to let our audience decide whether he would live or die. It came to be known in our offices as the “telephone stunt.” We had a character, Robin, the readers didn’t seem terribly fond of. This wasn’t the original Robin, the “character-find of 1940”; that Robin was Dick Grayson and he had graduated from sidekick to bona fide hero who fronted a group of evil-fighting adolescents, The Teen Titans. In 1983, it was decreed that Robin should grow up and assume a crime-fighting identity of his own—become his own man, as befitted the leader of the mighty Titans. He left Batman’s world to assume the name, costume, and persona of Nightwing. Gerry Conway and Don Newton replaced him with a second Robin, Jason Todd, whose biography was virtually identical to that of Dick Grayson. Why not? Gerry and Don were not trying to innovate, they were simply filling a void. The assignment they were given was simple: Provide another Robin. Quickly and with as little fuss as possible.

In 1986, Max Allan Collins inherited the Batman writing assignment and told his editor he had an idea for an improved Jason Todd. Make him a street kid, Collins said. Make his parents criminals. Have him and Batman on opposite sides at first. Sounded fine to the editor and, since DC was in the middle of a vast, company-wide overhaul of storylines anyway, Collins was told to go ahead. I was the editor; I did the telling. And I’d do it again, today. Collins’s Robin was dramatic, did have story potential. But readers didn’t take to him. I don't know now, and will probably never know why. Jason was accepted as long as he was a Dick Grayson clone, but when he acquired a distinct and, Collins and I still believe, more interesting backstory, their affection cooled. Maybe we—me and the writers who followed Collins—should have worked harder at making Jason likeable. Or maybe, I guessed, on some subconscious level our most loyal readers felt Jason was a usurper. For whatever reason, Jason was not the favorite Dick had been. He wasn’t hated, exactly, but he wasn’t loved, either. Should we write him out of the continuity? It didn’t seem like a bad idea, and when we thought of the experiment that became the telephone stunt, Jason seemed the perfect subject for it. The mechanics were pretty simple: we put Jason in an explosion and gave the readers two telephone numbers they could call, the first to vote that Jason would survive the blast, the second to vote that he wouldn't.

It was successful—oh my, yes. We expected to generate some interest, but not the amount or intensity we got. As soon as the final vote was tallied—5271 for Jasons survival, a deciding 5343 against—the calls began. For most of three days, I talked to journalists, disc jockeys, television reporters. We got a lot of compliments. They ranged from a critic’s liking our stunt to the participatory drama of avant garde theater to the brilliant comedy team of Penn and Teller expressing mock envy that we beat them to “the kill-your-partner-900-number scam.” But then came the backlash, ugly and, to me at least, totally unexpected: one reporter claimed that the whole event had been rigged—that, in fact, we had decided on Jason’s demise ahead of time and staged an elaborate charade; a teary grandmother said that her grandchildren loved Jason and now we’d killed him; several colleagues accused us of turning our magazines into a “Roman circus.” Cynical was a word used. And exploitive. Sleazy. Dishonorable. Wait a minute, I wanted to reply. Jason Todd is just a phantom, a figment of several imaginations. No real kid died. No real anything died. It’s all just stories—

I would have been wrong. Batman, and Superman, and Wonder Woman and their supporting casts are quite a bit more than “just stories” if, by “stories,” we mean ephemeral amusements. They’ve been in continuous magazine publication for a half-century, and they’ve been in movies, and television shows, and in novels, and on cereal boxes and T-shirts and underwear and candy bars and yo-yos and games—thousands of ventures. For fifty years. Fifty years! Although the circulation of our magazines is relatively modest, these characters have been so enduring, so pervasive, they have permeated our collective consciousness. Everybody recognizes them. They are our post-industrial folklore and, as such, they mean much more to people than a few minutes’ idle amusement. They’re part of the psychic family. The public and apparently callous slaying of one of their number was, to some, a vicious attack on the special part of their souls that needs awe, magic, heroism.

We had promised to abide by the telephone poll, and we would. But within a few days, it became apparent that we’d have to begin growing another Robin. We had forgotten that Batman exists outside the pages of our comics, is not the exclusive property of DC’s editorial staff; because he is both popular and imperishable, hundreds of others have some legitimate interest in him (not the least of whom are the readers who, for one reason or another, had missed the voting.) Our medium may have kept him alive, but others have added immeasurably to his success. When we began hearing from them, the consensus was that a Batman without a Robin wasn't quite a Batman. I wasn’t surprised. Nor did I disagree, particularly. So our problem became: how to create Robin III without generating the hostility that plagued poor Jason. Dick Grayson was the answer. If, as we thought, readers felt Jason had somehow usurped Dick’s place, then we should link the new Robin to Dick—give Robin III his predecessor’s stamp of approval. One writer had done almost all of the Dick Grayson material DC had published for a decade: Marv Wolfman, co-creator (with George Pérez) of the New Teen Titans. That made Mary the first, and really only, choice to undertake the task of giving Batman a new helper. And if we were using Marv, why not have some of the story happen in the pages of THE NEW TITANS, which he was already writing, and thus be able to take advantage of the very considerable talents of Marv's collaborator on the Titans, George Pérez? George volunteered to co-plot the story with Mary and do layouts on the TITANS episodes, and editor Mike Carlin enlisted Tom Grummett and Bob McLeod to complete George's graphics work. I asked the regular BATMAN artists, Jim Aparo and Mike DeCarlo, to handle the BATMAN issues. Finally, we chose a name for Robin III—Tim Drake—and, after a couple of editorial conferences, six gifted gentlemen retired to do what they do best.

The result seemed worthy of being collected between one set of covers, to be read as a graphic novel. We decided to do that and you’re holding the result. I hope you enjoy it. But please don’t think it’s the end of the Robin III saga. Dick Grayson’s lasted 50 years, after all, and Tim Drake does have his blessing.

Dennis O’Neil

April 1990

#scanned so you can read & interpret for yourself (sorry for the page quality this book is 30+ years old now...still a great intro though)#tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #batman #robin #batfam #i particularly like the part abt the heroes being psychic family/post-industrial folklore. agree. tho the jason stuff is a little agonizing #'i dunno why he was so unlikeable' meanwhile jim starlin interviews are like 'I wrote him unlikeable on purpose so they'd let me kill him'#not that jim starlin is the only reason some readers hated jason but it's like. c'mon...having writers who hate robin is certainly a factor #bonds: I knew it was you #batman: a lonely place of dying #dc comics #dennis o'neil #heroesriseandfall

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taintedcigs · 1 year ago

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dancing with our hands tied part II — s.h

you can find part I here

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!, ANGST, making out, swearing, drinking, alcohol mention, JEALOUSY!!! eddie's a bit of an asshole i am sorry, but so is steve sometimes!! and so is reader? idk!

summary: in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex. (wc: 8k+)

a/n: this is part 2 of this fic here !! pls make sure to read it before this!! anddd, im sorry for how confusing the first part was, BUT HERE'S THE HIDEOUT INCIDENT!! and i didn't use POVs this time and i kinda gave up on dates ugrhh. also i have a little bonus content at the end even tho its so a lil silly!!! also did not proof-read this, pls ignore any mistakes or ill scream n d*e

Friday, February 7, 1986 || The Hideout.

Steve stole a glance in your direction, and immediately realized the mistake he had made.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why did you have to be so fucking perfect? Why did you have to have the most contagious laugh that immediately brought a warm smile to his lips?

Steve leaned against the bar as he watched you further, reveling at the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you gave Robin a giggle, nose scrunching as you mimicked whatever story you were telling, drawing him in without even having a clue on the effect you had on him.

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, his heart pounded inside of his ribcage when you looked at him like that, as if your eyes were smiling at him. He held your gaze, giving you a subtle nod.

God, if Steve didn’t tell you how he felt about you soon, he was sure he was going to explode.

He turned back to the bar, head filled with the idea of opening up to you, he had to do it soon or else—

“Harrington!” Eddie beamed, interrupting his thoughts as he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulders, “You mind helpin’ me out?” He grinned, causing Steve’s brows to furrow.

“Can you put in a good word for me?” Eddie muttered, hand pointing toward the booth, “What are you talking about?” Steve muttered, his eyes following him.

“Y/N.” Steve hoped to God that Eddie didn’t notice the shock in his eyes, blinking quickly as he tried to control the jealousy building within him.

“I swear I’ve had the biggest crush on her,” Eddie exclaimed. Steve couldn’t help the way his face fell; he wondered if Eddie could notice it, but by the way he grinned at you, Eddie probably had no fucking clue about his feelings for you.

“Since when?” Steve sounded bitter, chewing at the inside of his mouth to stop himself, “Uh, since forever, dude,” Eddie said, chuckling.

“Put in a little good word for me, yea? I know you guys are close and shit,” Eddie gushed as he squeezed Steve’s shoulders again, and Steve was tense now, his entire body almost burning with rage and resentment.

Maybe it was wrong for Steve to be petty about this; maybe it wasn’t fair to you that he spent the rest of the night ignoring you; maybe it wasn’t right for him to act this way, but Steve had been on this rodeo before.

He was always the second choice, and he knew that he was never going to be someone’s priority. Because of that, his reaction was warranted; at least that’s what he believed. Ignoring you completely while he bitterly watched Eddie make moves on you was the only way he could cope with it.

And it was driving him crazy, knowing that Eddie was getting under your skin with the advice he got from Steve and learning everything about you from him.

At first, it was all just some passive aggressiveness, until it turned into something bigger, until you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Because there stood Steve, across from the gang’s booth, leaning over the wall as he whispered something into Tammy’s ear—Steve’s ex.

With her shiny blonde hair and her big eyes, she threw him a hearty giggle, sticking to his side, while Steve barely blinked, allowing her to drool all over him.

You had no right to be jealous, not when Steve had no clue about your feelings, not when Steve didn’t owe you a thing, but you couldn’t help the frown on your face as he ignored you all night and was fine with stupid Tammy Thompson being all over him.

Your throat burned with the number of shots you took, you could never handle your tequila, but the numbness was exactly what you needed. Your mind was getting dizzier with Steve being pushed back into your thoughts.

You could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each sip, gaze barely holding over Steve’s direction anymore when Eddie had been keeping you company the whole night.

To think Steve was supposed to be your close friend felt like a joke now. The more he was with the blondie, the more you felt your stomach churning, gaze drifting toward Eddie to keep yourself from looking in his direction.

You felt desperate.

Steve probably saw you as the girl who was wrapped around his finger, the girl who followed him around like a puppy. Maybe that’s why he was ignoring you, trying to keep you from clinging to him.

You fidgeted in your seat; not being able to get up and tear her off of him was killing you, and your head was pounding because of the amount alcohol in your system.

It was getting harder to ignore the jealousy that gnawed at your insides.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice anything, but Steve did.

With each shot you took, with each step you took closer to Eddie, Steve couldn’t help the sharp pain he felt in his chest, the same rage of jealousy gnawing at him as well. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it, too, so he buried it deeper and deeper until he could make sure those feelings for you were impossible to reach.

You were going to be dating Eddie, and Steve needed to get over you as fast as he could.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t mind the attention coming from his ex.

By the time Steve arrived back at the booth, Nancy and Jonathan were already gone, you were in the bathroom—possibly puking your guts out, and Robin was getting ready to leave.

“What the fuck happened here?” He asked, concern washing over his face. “She drank a bit too much,” Robin mumbled, knowing how much Steve cared about you.

“You should maybe check on her, yea?” She gave Steve an all-knowing look, causing him to shrug.

“I can’t—” Robin interrupted him with a death glare.

“I would, but I have to go or my mom will actually kill me this time,” She groaned, saying her goodbyes before leaving in a hurry.

“Dude, I gotta bail too,” Eddie puffed his cheeks as he put on his leather jacket. “What?” Steve asked, baffled.

“She’s wasted!” He exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up quickly, causing Eddie to shrug, “She’s probably puking her guts out right now, she needs you.” Steve’s eyes narrowed; he couldn’t believe that Eddie would even think about leaving you alone in a condition like this.

“Gross, dude,” Eddie said, making a face as he cringed, causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“Real fuckin’ mature, Munson.”

“You drop her home, man, I’m too fuckin’ hammered for all of this.” He gave Steve’s shoulder another tight squeeze; this time Steve was sure his blood was boiling, his eyes darkening with each word Eddie spoke.

This asshole had the audacity to use him to try to date you, and he couldn’t even fucking treat you, right? Steve shook off his thoughts before he could do something he knew he would regret.

Eddie was his best friend, and he could never let his feelings for you get in the way of you actually being happy.

“Are you going to get a cab?” Steve asked, “Yeah,” Eddie muttered mindlessly.

“Then give me your jacket.” Steve’s tone was now cold, almost demanding, and his demeanor changing within seconds was throwing Eddie off,

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie chuckled mockingly, he didn’t notice the serious gaze Steve holds.

“Dude, your house is five minutes away, you’ll be fine, just give me your jacket,” He demanded again.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Eddie spat.

“Because you asshole, it’s the middle of February and Y/N is wearing a fucking dress, it’s the least you could do for leaving her like that.”

“Why don’t you give her yours?” Steve didn’t know how to control the rage coursing through his veins.

“Do you see me wearing a fucking jacket?” Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve like this, with those veins in his forehead visible as he could feel his fists clench. Eddie’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Steve’s bizarre behavior.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie mumbled before taking off the jacket with a few huffs escaping from his lips.

“There, you happy, man?” Eddie hissed, almost tossing the jacket toward Steve, “Fucking ecstatic,” Steve replied with an angry smirk.

Steve sighed before he made his way to the bathroom. Not knowing what was waiting for him inside, he knocked on the door hesitantly and asked, “Y–you okay?” The shakiness in his voice was exposing him.

A faint ‘Yeah’ was all he heard before you unlocked the door.

And there you laid on the dirty bathroom tiles, your hair disheveled, make-up smudged, and you could barely get your head up from the toilet seat.

Steve’s heart sank, guilt settling in his insides again like an old friend. He knew he couldn’t always take care of you, and he knew that you’d be with Eddie soon, but he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of guilt when all of this could’ve been avoided if he was just there for you.

And his mind was still reeling about the fact that Eddie dared to leave you like this.

Would the fucker even be able to treat you right?

“Want me to help you?” He asked, hands itching to reach out and hold you, but you dismissed him like it was nothing, like he didn’t mean anything to you anymore, and it had only been an hour since Steve had learned that Eddie was into you.

“No,” Even when you were this messed up, you held onto your grudge, shutting out any feelings of understanding or empathy toward Steve, even though he was only trying to help you out.

“I can help, to, you know—hold your hair and stuff,” He stuttered, he had never been this nervous around you.

You flushed the toilet as you attempted to get up, “I’m not—I didn’t throw up,” Your words were slurred.

“If you… if you feel like throwing up, I can—”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too loudly, throwing him a cold stare. “I’m just trying to help you, Y/N.” His tone sounded disappointed, but you could care less when he had acted like a jerk most of the night.

“I don’t need your help,” You snapped while flushing the toilet, trying to stand still, your head growing dizzier each time you moved.

Steve breathed a heavy sigh and said, “Here.” He ignored your protests as he helped you up, warm hands were tight around your waist. If you weren’t this embarrassingly drunk and a huge mess, you would’ve started getting your hopes up.

But not after today, not after he ignored you to be with Tammy Thompson all fucking night.

“I got it!” You spat, trying to free yourself from his hold. “Let me help, please.” This was the most genuine he had been tonight, his voice almost pleading as he threw you that pitiful look, and you hated it.

You hated being the one Steve pitied and not the one he pined after, but you swallowed your pride when you realized you couldn’t even walk properly.

You barely questioned everyone’s absence when your mind was filled with Steve.

And once he dragged you out of the bar, you couldn’t help the petty words that escaped your lips; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

“You can get back to your girlfriend now,” You muttered bitterly, your voice clear. There was venom in your tone, and your grudge was poison with the way it seeped into your words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve sighed, and you lightly pushed him off of you as you stood still on your own.

“Does the name Tammy Thompson ring a bell?” You narrowed your eyes. You wish you could tape your mouth right now and stop yourself from spilling so much of your feelings to Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything, Y/N?” His tone remained cold now; your heart was in his hands, and he was squeezing it each time he distanced himself from you.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Each time you dismissed him, you unknowingly tore open the old wound in his heart, keeping it fresh.

“If—if you wanted to take care of me so badly, then why did you ignore me all fuckin’ night?” Your face heated with anger, and your tone was tinged with frustration.

“Should go back to fuckin’ blondie over there,” You muttered under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him, unable to conceal the bitterness you were holding onto.

“Oh my god,” The realization dawned on Steve at a crawl.

You were jealous of him.

“You are jealous,” Steve couldn’t help the annoying smile on his lips, much to your dismay. You were jealous of him, and as selfish as it was, it was amusing to him.

“What?” You snapped, eyes narrowing, “I’m not jealous—” The look Steve threw at you was enough to break you. “Jerk,” You mumbled under your breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it dooooeees,” He said, dragging his words out to annoy you further, as he took a step closer to you, almost closing the distance that he had been keen on protecting the entire night.

He was frustrating, so fucking frustrating, spinning your head faster than all the booze in your system. You couldn’t help the way your eyes grew mellow when he looked at you like that, you wanted to take all of him in.

This entire day was beginning to grow tiring, from Eddie’s sudden interest in you to Steve’s emotional whiplash, and now, since you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn second, he was aware of your unnecessary jealousy.

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” You slurred again, hands wrapping around yourself almost as an attempt to conceal yourself from him, he could see right through you, and it was making you feel things you were not ready for.

“W—where is Eddie?” Those were the worst three words that could come out of your mouth. Just when Steve was basking in the glory and the hope that you were jealous of him, you decided to bring up Eddie, and with just his name rolling off your lips, you were re-opening his wounds.

Why not him?

Why was it never Steve?

Steve gulped; physically, he wasn’t sure what step to take would be better, to put a distance between you and him or to put a distance between him and Eddie.

And even though he knew he would regret doing this like there’s no tomorrow, even though Eddie doesn’t fucking deserve this decency, or you, Steve decided that he can’t do this to his friend.

“At least he’ll take me home!” You exclaimed so confidently that Steve couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.” Steve quipped, grinning. He was mocking you again, unaware of your growing frustrations.

“What the hell is your problem?” You narrowed your eyes. “Unlike you, he didn’t ignore me all night to be with his ex, and he gave me his jacket.” Steve chuckled at that, again, frustrating you more and more, each time he opened his mouth.

With an irritated frown, you shot a sharp glance at him and asked, “Is everything a fucking joke to you?”

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” You crossed your arms against your chest, “You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself!” You snapped, not even knowing know why you uttered those words, you knew better than anyone that Steve wasn’t selfish; he never once put himself in front of his friends, but you were aiming to hurt him, and he was ready to bite back now.

“You are so fucking ridiculous, I—I can’t do this with you,” You murmured dejectedly, not being able to help it when your voice cracked; he was so embedded in your brain that you couldn’t form coherent words with the space he took up in your mind.

“You have no idea what you’re even talking about,” He whispered, shaking his head. If only you knew.

“Did you actually stop to think about how shitty it makes me feel when you give me these stupid emotional whiplashes?” You asked, and if you dared to get closer to him, you might’ve lost the purpose of the argument, your gaze drooping down to his lips every few seconds.

Steve stared at you blankly; you were unable to make anything out of his expressions, he looked at you as if you never existed to him, on a fucking whim.

Your lips tremble, a telltale sign that you would break soon.

His no response spoke volumes to you, “Of course you didn't.” You gave him a dry chuckle, filled with bitterness, and turned on your heel to walk away from him.

The slight breeze of February air hit you harder than Steve’s words.

He sighed a heavy breath when he heard you gasp at the coldness, hand reaching out to your arm before he spun you to meet his gaze again,

“Watch it, Y/N.” The words slipped past his lips forcefully, his chest puffing down with each breath he took. He was so fucking close that one move from you would change everything.

The tension was palpable; unspoken words and emotions hung in the space between the two of you.

And there it was.

There were his emotions again, filling his gaze quicker than you realized. If you weren’t this shitfaced, you could possibly do something about the ever so slightly distance between you, your foreheads almost touching. But your mind was spinning with endless possibilities. “Or what?” You teased; maybe it wasn’t the right time to do so, but you wanted to push him, make him break, the same way he did to you.

How far was he willing to take it?

His grip on your arm tightened; it wasn’t harsh, but tight enough to send shivers down your spine. And you couldn’t determine a single thing he was thinking again, eyes locked with each other without a single word being spoken.

You could sense his mind wandering off to find you a proper answer, trying to pick his words carefully, but you didn’t want that.

You wanted to know what he was thinking—what was going through his mind when he looked at you like you meant something to him, like he was ready to risk it all.

It was momentarily, but you could see it all—the sudden flint of confidence that didn’t waver enough to be convincing.

It wasn’t long until he returned to the cold demeanor he had been reserving just for you. “No, you’re not fucking worth it,” He muttered, taking a step back before he bit the inside of his cheek—hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded his senses, but he could care less; if he hadn’t done it, he would’ve poured his heart out.

He would’ve risked it all just to see those sparks in your eyes, but with five words, he had managed to kill it, slitting all the possibilities with the sharpest knife he could find.

“W–what?” Your voice cracked, and you fucking hated it. You hated being this weak in front of him, with tears ready to spill every time you had an argument, even over the smallest things.

“Just–Fuck! Look at you,” He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to burn this bridge with you, but he knew he had to for his own sake and for you to be happy with Eddie.

“You—you’re all over the place, always relying on others to take care of you, just one fucking night I didn’t baby you…” He shook his head. “And you act like I’m fuckin’ insane for doing that!” His voice was calm and collected, and that was what was throwing you off. How could he relay your insecurities in front of you, crush your heart to pieces, and pretend as if what he was saying was okay?

You couldn’t help it when tears flooded your vision. You tried not to let them get to you, but the alcohol in your system was far too dizzying and hormonal to stop your emotions from flowing. You didn’t know why he decided to utter those words, but it hurt.

Each of the gazes you shared and each word that transpired, deepened the wound in your insides that you didn’t even know existed, your feelings were at the surface, and you were vulnerable at his expense.

But Steve didn’t care.

“I—I can’t believe you’d say that,” You whispered, blinking the tears away when you took a step back, the hurt subsiding when it transformed into rage. “Fuck you,” You spat, your words weren’t slurred this time, but your vision was blurry again, barely taking another look at him when you started to walk away.

And he didn’t call out after you; he didn’t even flinch.

You were all alone.

You let your emotions overtake you as you started sobbing, sniffling every once in a while as you tried to comfort yourself.

Eddie could drop you home, you tried to reassure yourself, you knew there was a payphone close to The Hideout, if you could just walk a few more minutes, you could just call him—but holy fuck, did your feet hurt. You cursed yourself for not listening to Nancy when she told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

You were wobbly now, tears pouring down your cheeks, your smudged mascara distorting your view further, and it was dark out, so fucking dark that it started to scare you.

Your mind reeled more and more, and your chest felt trapped with each shallow breath you took. Eddie would’ve never uttered those words to you, your angry mind decided, Eddie wouldn’t flirt with girls—his exes—in front of you.

Eddie would never give you this sort of emotional whiplash.

And most importantly, Eddie would never leave you like this.

You felt so tired, just wanting to sleep, but you knew you couldn’t turn back now. Your feet were aching, but you’d rather they blistered than see Steve again.

You sat on the ground, relief washing over you when you got rid of your shoes, and the dirty, cold concrete ground felt so comforting that you nuzzled into the leather jacket, arms wrapped around yourself to provide more warmth as you sniffled into it.

You’re not sure if you can ever be with Steve anymore.

Sure, you could still be friends because you did have many big, stupid fights—granted, none of them were like this; this was different.

This was the first big fight you had with him since you realized your feelings for him, and it hurt.

Steve was not who you thought he was.

He was never going to love you.

He only saw you as his friend, and right now, even that was questionable.

And there you were, pathetically pining after him while he was drooling all over other girls, chasing him down and making a mess of yourself just for him to leave you like this.

You sniffled again; Eddie would never, and he actually was interested in you.

God, how you wished he could find you now, take you home, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he tried to mend what Steve broke.

You knew it was selfish, but it was the only way.

Maybe if Eddie could make you forget him completely, he could remind you that you weren’t a mess and that you were perfect.

Your vision blurred again, hot tears were stinging your eyes, but the ground was so comfortable.

Steve was right, you were a mess, you were a huge fucking mess, and you were pathetic, but you didn’t care as you hugged yourself further, head falling into your lap as you let yourself fall more and more into the deep pit of despair.

And that’s the last thing you remembered.

You didn’t remember Steve running after you as he realized how much he fucked up; you don’t remember Steve seeing you curled up into a ball, almost falling asleep.

You don’t remember Steve lifting you up and carrying you before anything bad happened to you.

You don’t remember the apologies Steve muttered into your ear on the ride home, how he checked every few seconds to make sure you were okay, his hands never leaving yours as he wanted to punch himself for even putting you in a position like this.

You don’t remember Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ear when he tucks you in, and you don’t remember him almost staying till the morning to make sure you were okay and didn’t get sick.

The last thing you remember was the fight.

You woke up the next morning with a groan, and you were sure no painkiller was going to help the pounding in your head.

You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked in the mirror, your hair was an absolute mess, the top that adorned your neck was covered with alcohol stains, your make-up was smudged, and you only had one earring.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sighed, taking off the dirty clothes as you put on a comfy shirt, your room was as messy as you were, bag on the floor while its contents spilled out, and… a leather jacket?

Slowly but surely, last night’s events came to you in a blur. The last thing you remembered was the fight you had with Steve.

Both of you spewed some hurtful things at one another, and that’s the clearest you could remember it.

You examined the leather jacket sprawled over the floor, and your brows knitted together, Steve didn’t even have a jacket on last night; you remembered because Robin made fun of him for not bringing a jacket in February when Steve whined about being cold.

You read the tagline; E.M.

Oh god.

Was it… Eddie? Did he drop you off when you were embarrassingly drunk?

Was Eddie the one who took care of you the whole night while Steve threw you away like a piece of paper?

You remembered the hurtful things he said to you; your mind was too jumbled up to even recall the nice things he said to you afterward.

You knew you have to talk to him, mend your friendship, but all you could think about now was Eddie, how he took care of you, and how he was there for you.

That day you called him, and he told you in detail how wasted you were and how he had to carry you home. You made up with Steve afterward too, both of you muttering apologies to each other as you promised not to let stupid things get out of hand.

And that day, Eddie took you on your first date with him.

NOW

“Buckley, you mind ringing these up for me?” You beamed, throwing her an innocent smile, your eyes wandering off to Steve’s absence next to her.

You gave her the ‘Evil Dead II’ and ‘Dirty Dancing’ VHS tapes nonchalantly, waiting to ask her about Steve.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up, “What kind of a double-feature is this supposed to be, huh?”

“A very fun one,” You said with a slight smirk, handing her a couple of bills.

You scanned the store, he was nowhere to be seen, of fucking course. “Harrington running from me again?” You almost cursed yourself for saying that out loud, but you couldn��t help it, something snarky would’ve slipped out eventually.

You saw Robin almost freeze, her mouth hanging open as her brain short-circuited to find a quick answer.

“I—It’s fine,” You mumbled. “Just tell him I would really like to talk to him. Once his weird tantrum is over?” You commented; it was snarky again, but he deserved it.

Five days had passed since the party, and Steve had been avoiding you like the plague, not returning your phone calls, and sneaking out the back each time you visited Family Video, and it was driving you crazy.

Determined to talk to him, you spent the last few days re-evaluating everything. You wanted to ask him what the fuck he meant—was everything that led to you dating Eddie a lie?

And did Steve never think to tell you this, even once the two of you broke up? His audacity was pissing you off, more than ever now that he was avoiding you.

Then small things started coming back to you in a flash, like the drunken confession you made to him last week.

But you were still clueless about The Hideout. You racked your brain away, but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. Even the fight with Steve was so vaguely burned into the back of your brain, you simply didn’t want to remember it, or the hurtful words he uttered to you that night.

You had decided to forgive and forget, had no intention of going back to that head space, until recently, when Steve decided to blurt out that he was the one in Hideout, leaving without explaining anything further.

You tried to fish it out of Robin, but she acted clueless, and you tried everything you could do to reach out to Steve, but it was useless.

So that only left you with one thing.

Eddie.

Eddie had told you the day after The Hideout incident that it was he who took you home, detailing everything that happened that night.

You were basically breathless by the time you made it to Eddie’s trailer, knocking on the door, until it hit you.

What the fuck were you doing? Knocking on Eddie’s door when he had no fucking clue what was happening, when he had no idea you and Steve had kissed.

When he had no idea that you knew.

You shook your head in embarrassment as you turned around, about to leave, coincidentally and to your dumb luck, that’s when Eddie had decided to open the door.

He stood speechless when he saw you, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “Y/N?” He asked, tone barely audible.

“Hi.” You muttered, accepting Eddie’s invitation as he stood aside for you to enter, and you squeezed by him with a quick ‘thank you’

“Look, I know you’re wondering why the fuck your ex showed up at your door but—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He interrupted

“I do have an idea,” He smirked slightly, causing you to throw him a confused look, you were about to open your mouth, ask a million questions, but he didn’t let you.

“I know everything,” He muttered, and you couldn’t decide his facial expressions. “Steve told me about all of it.”

“And I already told him there was no bad blood between me and you and that it was fine that you guys kissed—”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What?!?” You exclaimed, not expecting Steve to babble about it to Eddie when he had been avoiding you.

“Look, honey, Steve was all blabbering and shit when he came to see me, tellin’ me all this shit about how much he liked you and how sorry he was,” Eddie said with a concerned look.

“And I told him it was all fine, Christ—when did we even date, like 2 years ago?” You didn’t answer him and he sighed.

“I always knew the two of you had something for each other, I mean, why’d you think I got so jealous anytime you guys hung out together alone? He was definitely—“” He rambled for what felt like minutes, and you were quick to interrupt it, eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to process what the fuck was going on.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, “That’s… uhm– good to know, but not what I came in here for,” You muttered, eyes wandering to the ground.

He threw you a quizzed look, brows knitted up together, “I–I wanted to ask you about something,” You gulped.

“Well, spill it out, sweetheart, you’re makin’ me all nervous and shit.” He gave you a dry chuckle.

“What–what exactly happened that day?” You knew he was going to ask what the fuck you were talking about, so you cut him off before he got a chance to speak.

“At The Hideout… Two years ago.” You could see Eddie almost panic visibly, he didn’t expect it, and did it really matter now, after everything?

“Shit… why won’t you ask Steve about all this?” He scratched his head, it was all awkward, you coming here, asking him something that was two years ago, Steve telling Eddie about the kiss while refusing to acknowledge you…

It was embarrassing, really, and with each passing minute, a rage fueled inside of you. Sick of the hiding, and the lies. You just wanted the truth, and for Steve to not run at the first inconvenience.

“I would, if he didn’t avoid me like a fucking child,” You spat under your breath, causing Eddie to chuckle. He shook his head again.

“Right, so… I’m assuming since it was two years ago, you won’t be mad at me, right?” He asked, an innocent look spreading over his face, almost fearing as he saw how angry you were at Steve.

You almost rolled your eyes, these two idiots were making your blood boil. “Just want the truth, Munson, then I’ll be gone, I promise.”

“Right!” He chuckled nervously before telling you everything that happened that night.

You called Eddie right after you found his jacket, blabbering like an idiot as you thanked him a million times. While Eddie had no fuckin’ clue what had happened, he was still trying to get over his own hangover, but he wasn’t going to completely shut you down, not when he wanted you this badly, not when you were in the grasp of his hands.

As soon as you hung up, promising him a date, he called Steve, and he didn’t even have to beg him to play along; Steve was just... okay with it.

Steve knew the moment Eddie told him about his little crush that the two of you had no chance and that Steve would only be a little thought in the back of your mind, while Eddie would be the first choice, because why wouldn’t he?

Why would you choose him over Eddie?

And with all the sudden information flooding your mind, you weren’t sure how to react, how to vent all these emotions running through your veins, so you did it the only way you knew how; anger.

You checked the clock; 10.08

Steve’s shift should’ve ended long ago by now, you barely mumbled a goodbye to Eddie when you left, mind focused on one thing.

Steve.

You arrived at his door with your lips tightening and your jaw clenching, you weren’t going to give up now; you were going to talk to him. Now or never.

You knocked on the door so hard that you were sure your knuckles were bruising, and Steve was baffled when he opened the door, mouth almost agape as he looked at the sight in front of him.

“You know what you are? A fucking coward,” You mumbled, not giving him a second to process anything as you shook your head.

“You are a selfish fucking coward! Do you think you can make decisions for other people? You think you can just take their choices away and pretend like everything is fucking fine!” Steve didn’t utter a word when you let it all out, your words meshing with each other, and you could feel your blood boiling each time you spoke, but it was… weirdly relieving.

All that pent up anger was finally coming out.

“And you told Eddie?!? You fucking talked to him but didn’t have the guts to even face me! Five days, five fucking days, I followed you around, you fucking jerk!” You spat, your eyes flashed with anger as your face came closer to him, he didn’t even flinch, eyeing you curiously, those deep honey glazed eyes were warming the more he looked at you.

And Oh God, was his gaze inviting, so warm, but you couldn’t soften up… not when you still had so much to say.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for me? No—no… Fuck that! I don’t even give a fuck if it's embarrassing, I’ve been–I’ve been living a lie and you–it’s your fault…” You mumbled the last part, chest heaving, when your fiery gaze met his, he was itching to talk, and you could tell.

“That—that’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He muttered, causing your eyes to narrow, “Look why don’t we just go inside and have an adult conversation? No need for these tantrums—” And that hit a nerve.

“Don’t,” You muttered, closing your eyes, the rage bubbling up to the surface again, gnawing at your skin, waiting to welcome you.

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me to have an ‘adult conversation’ when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!” You exclaimed angrily, face heating with anger, Steve nodded, understandingly. He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, he just wanted to talk to you. He had been debating what to do these last five days, and shutting you out during that was obviously stupid, but that’s how he handled everything, wallowing it all until he chewed his emotions, keeping them hidden.

“What was I supposed to do?” He asked, almost defeated, and it made you want to chuckle, he was sending you over the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” It wasn’t a question; it was stupid for Steve to even attempt to open his mouth.

“You could have talked to me!” You took a deep breath; your anger wasn’t going to help, and if you didn’t talk to Steve as soon as possible, your head might have exploded.

You sighed as Steve stood aside, leading you to the living room, and your anger subsided with each step you took. The familiarity of the house was engulfing you, and you wanted to scream.

What if Steve had told you this would change nothing?

What if this was it for the two of you?

Your head was swirling, and it hurt, both physically and emotionally. It was taking a toll on you and Steve could sense it.

“What—what really happened… that day?” You asked, voice barely audible as you avoided his gaze.

Steve sighed as he took a seat next to you on the couch, hand itching to lay on your thigh, squeeze it to make you feel comfortable, just so you would look at him, but he resisted it, hand flexing as he placed it between the two of you.

“You–you remember our fight?” He mumbled, causing you to nod. “We both said some stupid shit to each other—”

“Well, you started it—” You gazed up at him, and this time he threw you a look, causing you to close your mouth as if to signal him to continue.

“And—and you left… and the second you did, I just felt this horrible fucking pit in my stomach, I could never—I could never leave you like that,” His voice was shaking, hands flexing again as he inched closer to you.

“I found you on the street, Y/N, almost passed out, and I lost my goddamn mind for leaving you alone—even for a second, I ca—I can’t fucking imagine what I would even do if anything happened to one–one fucking strand of your hair—just the thought makes me sick to my stomach—Jesus.” He muttered, face still toward you as you could trace it now, the worried lines etched onto his forehead, a frown taking upon his usual plump lips, voice cracking as you could sense it, the utter worry and desperation in his voice.

You couldn’t open your mouth, words failing you as you opted out to hold his hand instead, a small gesture, but one that made Steve’s entire stiffness disappear. One touch from you warming him up immediately.

“I took you home as fast as I could—I tucked you in, made sure you didn’t get sick, and then I left.”

“Why?” You asked, meekly.

“Why did you let me believe it was him? Why did you ignore me that night?”

“It–it doesn’t matter now,” He mumbled, and your brows furrowed again, fury still locked up inside of you.

“It fucking does!” You snarled, insides burning with anticipation and anger.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” You yelled, you didn’t want to scream at his face, but he left you with no choice. If you wanted to talk to him, you had to get some things out of him, no matter how much it angered you.

“Just tell me, Steve, full transparency, I want it all out.”

Steve’s silence caused a groan out of you, “If you don’t, I’m gonna leave… for good,” You whispered.

You were bluffing; you weren’t going to go anywhere without getting some closure, but Steve didn’t know that, and he had never seen you this riled up, so he sighed when you got up.

“I didn’t want to lose you!” He got up after you, staring at your back for a full minute until you turned around to meet him, a quizzed look overtaking your features.

“What?”

“God! I wanted to—Shit. I wanted to tell you about how I felt, but then Eddie came and he told me all about how he had feelings for you, and, uh, I just panicked— so fucking hard. I knew you would have chosen him, and I had that rejection one too many fuckin’ times, and I—I knew I couldn’t handle it from you!” He exclaimed, breath ragged as his brown orbs looked at you with such sympathy that you wanted to drop everything and kiss him, tell him that he would always be your first choice.

“I knew you would choose him and—”

“I didn’t want to be a second choice again, Y/N, I was so fucking scared—” You shook your head.

“Steve you—god, you have no fucking clue about anything,” You chuckled dryly, interrupting him.

“When you ignored me for Tammy that night, when you told me that I wasn’t ‘worth it’ that’s when I decided to contain my feelings for you, I knew you didn’t like me for anything more than friends—I always thought we had a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of relationship but that night, confirmed it for me,” You looked away, almost ashamed, face burning up.

“I felt so fucking desperate—like you wanted to push me away like I was an idiot girl who was clinging onto you, and now everything is just so confusing that I don’t even know what is going on.” Your hands ran through your hair.

“But you were and will always be my first choice,” You didn’t mean to smile, but it just appeared, anger washing away. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You muttered, and Steve’s entire demeanor changed, his body relaxing as he realized how much of an idiot he had been.

“What?” He asked, baffled, a small smile overtaking his lips before you could say another word.

“Yeah,” You murmured, taking a step closer to him,

“So… we’re both idiots, huh?” He asked, basking in the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes as your warm aura engulfed him.

“Hmmm… I’d say it’s more you than me,” You mumbled, scrunching your nose, as Steve huffed playfully, inching closer and closer to you. You didn’t know where this took the two of you, but your mind was so busy when he was standing this close to you.

One strand of his hair fell onto his forehead, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through them, kiss every inch of his face, run your lips along his soft ones, feel his calloused hands on your curves, grabbing desperately, meek grunts leaving his lips, both of you breathless.

And that’s exactly what you did—without a care, you closed the distance between the two of you with an annoyed huff, fingers running through his shiny hair.

His hands were quick to land on your hips, grabbing them like he was afraid of you slipping away, once again. And it all felt so easy and familiar that you could feel your head spinning.

His lips brushed against yours softly. You didn’t want this moment to be over, wanting to cling to him forever. Everything he did made you feel foolish and insane, and you understood why being in love felt like losing your mind, again.

Steve groaned into your lips, kissing you harder, once, twice, his lips never fully letting go of you, and you didn’t know if it would ever be enough for you, utterly craving nothing but him.

Your mind was jelly at this point, everything was tangled together while the question of ‘What’s going to happen now?’ lingered in your mind. Did he still want you? Did he still want to be together? Why didn’t he just come to you after talking to Eddie?

You tried to shake them off, tried to focus on the way Steve’s hands stuck to your body, like they belonged there, and the way his lips moved along yours, like it had always been this way.

You wanted to continue, wanted so badly to not let this moment go, but the bickering voices in your head were too much, and you pulled away slowly. Steve almost groaned when he felt the absence of your lips. He blinked once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” He unintentionally let out, gaze filled with lust as his pupils were blown wide, and a small giggle left your lips. “You are an idiot,” You whispered, your gaze settling on him.

Was everything going to be okay?

How were you even going to manage to make this work?

And with that, your expression soured, “Steve,” You said seriously, causing him to look up at you with concern all over his face. “I don’t want to get hurt again.” You murmured, forehead touching his.

“I won’t hurt you, ever.” His gaze was intense, and it made you feel giddy, worries washing away in seconds. You don’t know how he fucking did it, but it worked.

And you trusted him like no one else.

You couldn’t help it when your lips twitched into a smile. “You promise?” You gushed.

“With all my heart, honey.” He whispered, taking a deep breath.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, dreaming about this...”

“I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” He muttered, his hands tucking the strand of hair that was blocking him from placing messy kisses all over your face.

“I couldn’t handle losing you, not again,” He murmured before leaning in to press more kisses all over your soft lips.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bonus scene: just for shits n giggles idk

“What movies did you get today?” He asked with a childish grin on his lips.

“If you weren’t avoiding me, you would’ve known, pretty boy.” You exclaimed dramatically, crossing your arms against your chest.

Pretty boy.

The only thing that stuck in Steve’s brain was that he was your pretty boy.

And this giddy feeling inside of him was never going to go away, he decided.

He huffed playfully before he grabbed your bag, causing you to gasp. “Let’s see…” He murmured as he tried to find the VHS tapes.

“Aha!” He exclaimed as he grabbed the two of them, turning the cover to see what movies you rented.

“Oh my god,” He murmured. “A double-feature? For us?” He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile, so warm that you wanted to bathe in the glory of making him this happy.

“Mhmm… First, Evil Dead II for me, and once Stevie gets scared, we’ll put on Dirty Dancing.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” He groaned. “You are so fucking perfect, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

another a/n: so this is a bit messy bc i had too many ideas and this is the best i could do to fit them all in, i hope this doesn't feel that disconnected from the first!! work has been kicking my ass lately so my mind is all mushed lmao!! feel free to leave ur feedback and pls comment, like or reblog to support me ily <33

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #steve harrington #ex!eddie munson

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adafruit · 22 days ago

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🎄💾🗓️ Day 3: Retrocomputing Advent Calendar presents the Commodore VIC-20! 🎄💾🗓️

The VIC-20 ⌨️📺🕹️, released in 1980 by Commodore, was the first computer to sell over a million units. It had a 6502 CPU running at 1 MHz, 5 KB of RAM (expandable), and displayed up to 22 characters per line on a color-capable screen. An affordable and friendly computer, the VIC-20 was great at games and basic programming and was supported by a library of software and peripherals. It connected to TVs for display and included Commodore's BASIC interpreter for programming. Its success allowed other computers like the Commodore 64 to make its mark.

And since this is a #firstcomputer celebration here's a fantastic story from Jeff -

My first home computer was the Commodore VIC-20. I must have been in second grade (1986/1987). My Dad was working somewhere away from home, but one weekend Mom drove us two kids to spend the night at the motel that was his home base.

He had bought this computer, the VIC-20, and hooked it up to the hotel TV. I remember entering the program pictured below (probably Mom typed it in, actually) and being blown away by the birds flapping their wings across the screen.

The other distinct memory I have is the next morning my folks woke me up and asked whether I was hungry. No, I very much wanted to play with the VIC-20, so I made up the most obvious word that came to mind: "No, I'm Vic-y". I think they were very puzzled. We probably went and had breakfast regardless of whether we wanted to see the birds flying again.

Check out the wikipedia page for some great history, photos (pictured here), and more -

And the COMMODORE vic-20 commercial commercial compilation, featuring William Shatner.

youtube

Have first computer memories? Post’em up in the comments, or post yours on socialz’ and tag them #firstcomputer #retrocomputing - See you back here tomorrow!

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lewmagoo · 10 months ago

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six summers | bob floyd

description: it's been six years. six years since you walked away from the man you loved. six years since the night that your own foolish actions led to the disappearance of sixteen-year-old melissa seresin. you’ve spent these last few years living with crippling guilt. and after everything that happened, the last thing you are expecting is an invite to return to the camp and reassume your role as counselor. but here you are, staring in disbelief at a letter asking you to do just that. providing you with the opportunity to make things right. will you be able to come to terms with the past and allow yourself to accept this second chance? or will you let your guilt consume you?

characters: bob floyd x reader, the dagger squad as their respective characters, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, a number of my own ocs

warnings: 18+ only, mentions of death, guilt, references to sex, mentions of anxiety

series status: ongoing

listen to the playlist here!

this story is inspired by @ryebecca and this fantastic moodboard she made ; i also drew some inspiration from riley sager's the last time i lied

*this is my own original work - i do not consent to having it reposted or redistributed in any way

July 30th, 1980

1:15 am

All you felt was terror. Icy cold, like someone had shoved their frigid fingers beneath your shirt, digits pressing harsh, angry bruises into the skin while they were at it. Your arms were wrapped around yourself as you stood in the damp morning air, your eyes flitting about nervously, your gut churning with nausea.

“You do realize that your negligence in this situation is going to come with consequences, right? How could you be so stupid?!” Penny Mitchell’s voice had a sharp edge to it, despite her lowered tone. Her eyes were piercing. You couldn’t look at her.

“Don’t try to pin this all on her. I’m just as much to blame.” That was Bobby’s voice, coming from beside you, an air of protectiveness emanating from him as he stepped closer, standing in solidarity with you.

“Oh, trust me, I’m holding you responsible, too. But she’s the one who was supposed to be in charge of that cabin. If she would have been at her post, this wouldn’t have happened. But no! The two of you were off doing God knows what, while one of our campers wandered off into the night!”

Penny got into your face, pointing her finger, her anger palpable, radiating off her in waves. “You had better pray that girl is still alive, because if she winds up dead, her blood is on your hands, counselor.”

May 18th, 1986

10:30 am

“Mail’s in!” The voice of your roommate carried through your apartment, pulling your attention from the rhythmic tapping of the antique typewriter you’d picked up from a yard sale. Without a second thought, you sprang from your chair, flinging open your bedroom door, bare feet quick against carpet as you hurried toward the kitchen, where Margie was just walking through the door with a stack of mail.

“Any of it addressed to me?” You asked, a hopeful inflection in your voice.

Margie nodded, tossing the envelopes onto the countertop. “Yeah, you’re popular, got two letters addressed to you.”

Eagerly, you shuffled through the stack before you located the letters she was talking about. One had no definitive markings, so you had no idea where it was from. But the other had a promising logo on the front– The Capital Gazette.

“The Gazette sent something back!” You exclaimed, flipping the envelope over, fingers trembling as you tore into the seal.

Margie gasped, her attention immediately zeroing in on the letter you held. “What did they say?!” She exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Gimme a minute!” You shot back as you rushed to unfold the paper. Your eyes hurriedly scanned the contents, but within moments, your shoulders fell, the thrill of hope fading away to heavy disappointment. The words we regret to inform you were all you needed to read to know what the letter was about.

“I didn’t get the job,” came your glum statement.

“What?” Margie snatched the paper off the counter when you let it drop, reading it for herself. “Oh, come on! You’re the best damn writer I know, how could they turn you down?!”

You shook your head, fighting the tears of disappointment that had gathered on your lash line. “They don’t need me. They’ve got better writers.”

“That’s bullshit!” She huffed, shaking her head, knocking some of her unkempt curls loose from her haphazard ponytail.

“Whatever,” you said, bitterly. “There are other newspapers I can apply to. Other magazines. People are hiring all over the place,” you said, hoping to instill hope in your own heart. But it did little to lift your spirits.

Your roommate sighed softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Thanks, Mar. So am I.”

Her attention shifted to the other, unopened letter on the counter. “What’s that one say?”

With a clueless shrug, you reached for it. All it bore was your address in handwriting that was oddly familiar. Tentatively, you tore into the envelope, brows furrowed as you unfolded the paper and began to read.

And then, “holy shit.”

“What is it?” Margie demanded, curious. When you looked at her, she noticed the expression of worry etched into your brow.

“Camp Mitchell,” you whispered.

At that, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.” And then, she waved her hand, motioning you on. “What does it say?”

“They…they want me to come back as a counselor.”

I hope this letter finds you well. I am reaching out to you because I wanted to extend a formal invitation to return to camp as a counselor this summer. I know that things ended on a sour note for all of us involved, but Pete and I desire to breathe new life into this camp. We want to give other campers the chance to experience the wonder and magic of summertime at Camp Mitchell. I understand if you would prefer not to return, but it would be an honor to have you back with us again. Think we can agree to let bygones be bygones? I sure do hope so. Please give me a call at the number below and let me know if you would like to return and reassume your role as a camp counselor. Arrival deadline for counselors is May 24th. Hope to see you soon!

Best wishes,

Penny Mitchell

You stared at the words in absolute shock. They wanted you to come back? After everything that had happened? After your own foolishness had resulted in a girl going missing? You had to admit, it was a bold move on Penny’s part.

The police had heavily investigated you when young Melissa Seresin went missing six years prior. Penny had even blamed you for the girl’s disappearance. It was hard to imagine her wanting you to come anywhere near her camp ever again.

“I need to sit down,” you muttered, tossing the letter back onto the counter and stepping toward the kitchen table, where you hurriedly pulled out one of the chairs and lowered yourself into the seat. Two life-altering events had just taken place in the span of five minutes. You needed to process all of it.

As you tried to regain your wits, Margie scanned over the letter. Then, she sauntered over to you, letting out a sigh as she pulled out the chair across from you and flopped down into it, her legs parted, arms falling down to dangle over the sides. She blew a pesky curl away from her face.

Sympathetic brown eyes landed upon you, and the girl before you smiled softly. Understandingly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Since the job with The Gazette fell through…I might have no choice but to take up the offer to go back to camp. At least I’d be making some kind of income during the summer while I try to figure things out.”

Margie raised a dark brow. “Listen, you do what you think is best for you. But…after everything that happened there, are you sure you’re ready to go back? It’s only been six years.” She was not coming from a place of judgment. She was coming from a place of genuine concern for her friend.

You groaned softly, placing your head in your hands. “I dunno know what to do. Honestly, I’m not ready. But then again it might give me closure. And maybe that’s what Penny is thinking. If she wants to make things right with me after the way things ended…maybe I should go.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, I guess closure might be something that comes outta this. I just don’t want you to have to go through all that shit again, though.”

Your mouth quirked into a grateful smile. “I know, Mar. I’ve gotta think about it, first. I’m not making any decisions yet.”

“Well, let me know what you decide. Whatever choice you make, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As Margie left you at the table to be alone with your thoughts, you considered the weight of the situation. It had all happened so fast, and you felt as if you were caught up in a whirlwind. You only had a week to make a decision, because you had to be at camp on the 24th if you decided to go.

Were you ready to go back, after only six short years? The thought made your stomach turn. Camp Mitchell was a place that held a lot of trauma for you. Your life had fallen apart there.

You had been a first-year counselor in the summer of 1980. A job meant to get you through the summer, before you returned to college in the fall. You remembered being so hopeful and excited about what the summer held.

Camp Mitchell was a camp situated in Michigan’s wilderness. Secluded, surrounded by forests as far as the eye could see. Quaint little wooden cabins. A mess hall. A volleyball pit. A lake. All the other amenities that a typical summer camp would have.

You were put in charge of the junior/senior girls' cabin. Eleventh and twelfth graders. You were slightly intimidated because you were only a few years older than they were. You worried that they would not respect you. But much to your relief, the girls accepted you with open arms.

Throughout the many weeks of camp, you bonded with several different girls who passed through your cabin. But none of them connected as well with you as Melissa Seresin.

July 1980

She was the younger sister of one of the other counselors, Jake Seresin, and she was sweet as could be. She attended camp most of the summer, because her brother worked there, and she didn’t want to remain stuck at home alone while her parents traveled for the summer.

So, she tagged along with Jake. Unlike her brother, she was not cocky. She had a very kindhearted demeanor. A little spoiled, once in a while, due to being the youngest and only girl of rich parents and a doting older brother, but nothing you couldn’t tolerate.

Melissa remained a semi-permanent fixture in your cabin, even as groups of girls from different places — schools, church youth groups, family groups, so on and so forth — passed through all summer.

She knew the camp like the back of her hand, and had spent a few summers there already. You didn’t have to worry about her like you might other campers, because she was well aware of the camp’s procedures.

That was why it was so jarring when, one night in the middle of the summer, she disappeared without a trace.

Late one night, after lights out, the girls in your cabin noticed her absence. Melissa was always in bed come lights out. Not always asleep, but certainly always present. Her neatly made, unoccupied bed raised suspicions, but it was her missing backpack that made the girls think that she had left altogether.

You were not at your post like you were supposed to be. Earlier that night, you had enforced lights out, but soon after had slipped out into the night to meet someone. The girls ranged from fifteen to eighteen years old, so you were not particularly concerned about them getting up to mischief. But in your haste to leave, you neglected to double-check that Melissa was present.

To your utter shame, you had left to meet up with another counselor. The head counselor of the seventh and eighth-grade boys' cabin, Robert Floyd. Bob to his friends. Mr. Bob to the campers. Bobby to you, and only you.

It wasn’t in your nature to sneak around. Neither was it in Bob’s. But you had gotten tangled up in an impassioned summer fling, and you took advantage of every free moment you had to be together.

It was in that time span of you and Bob sneaking off to the lake, that Melissa had gone missing. And when you returned to the cabin an hour later, the girls were all awake, in a slight state of upheaval.

“Where have you been?!” Asked Claudia, one of the senior girls. “I was about to leave and go find Mrs. Mitchell!”

“I needed some air. Why, what’s up?” You cautiously asked.

Claudia motioned to Melissa’s empty bed. “Melissa never made it in for lights out.”

You stared at the bed, its covers untouched and meticulously tucked in, as a hotel bed would be. That was the way she made it every morning. She hadn’t been in that bed since last night. “No, she was here when I left!” You insisted.

“Um, no she wasn’t,” Marissa, another senior, piped up. “Plus, her backpack is gone.”

“Oh, God. Well, that’s my bad for sure. Okay, um, I’m sure she can’t have gotten far. She knows this camp well. Don’t worry, I’ll go take a look around. The rest of you, stay put. Lemme just do a count to make sure nobody else went off with her.”

After a headcount, you came up with fourteen girls. Melissa would make fifteen, so she was the only one missing. Huffing out a sigh, and attempting to keep yourself calm and neutral so the girls wouldn’t panic, you squared your shoulders.

“I’ll go grab another counselor and we’ll take a look. Claudia, you’re the oldest, so you’re in charge. Make sure no one leaves. The rest of you, try to get some sleep. I know you’re a little freaked right now but it’s gonna be okay.” The biggest lie you could have told them. It was, in fact, not going to be okay.

“What should we do if she comes back?” Claudia asked, running a nervous hand through her thick brunette locks. Her dark eyes were fearful, although she was trying to appear brave, just as you were trying to do.

“Just make sure she stays put. I’ll come back and check in a bit, if I don’t find her, and we can touch base then.”

Once you were certain the girls understood the plan, you excused yourself again, stepping out into the humid July night. Crickets sang as you ambled down the path that led to the boys’ cabins, but the pounding of your heart in your ears drowned out the sound.

Your hands shook, unsteady as you held your flashlight before you. Tears blurred your vision, and the heat of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so stupid? Here you were, off getting laid while one of your girls was nowhere to be found.

You had to look for her, but you weren’t going to do it alone. Hurriedly, you ascended the steps of cabin 13, the first of the boys’ cabins. Light on your feet, so as not to step on any squeaky boards, you crept closer to the door.

Three soft raps, five seconds apart. That was your code. And sure enough, within moments, the door inched open, and there was your Bobby. You had just seen him twenty minutes prior, but he’d already changed into his sleep clothes. An old camp shirt and basketball shorts.

Brow furrowed, he quietly closed the door behind him, stepping out onto the porch. You reached for his hand and guided him off the porch, onto the soft, sandy ground. “What’s goin’ on, Kit?” He asked. The nickname he’d dubbed you for reasons so much more lighthearted than the situation you were facing.

“Melissa’s gone,” you whispered. “The girls said she was never there for lights out.”

“Huh? But you checked on them before you left.”

“I did, but I…I guess I just missed Melissa. I thought she was there, but tonight was so chaotic…God, I can’t believe I could be so stupid” You despaired.

“Shh,” Bob soothed, reaching out to run comforting hands down your arms. “Hey, she probably just went for a walk. I’m not close to her, but I know she likes to go and write in that journal of hers a lot. She’s probably doing that.”

“But that’s not like her. Yeah, she writes in her diary but she’s never done this before. Just…up and left like that. I’m scared, Bobby. I think something might’ve happened to her. And it’s all my fault.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No, don’t even let your mind go there. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” His hands had moved to cup your cheeks. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look for her. If we don’t find her in the next hour, we can tell Penny and get a search party goin’.”

You prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but the sick feeling in your gut told you otherwise. It was your fault, no matter how much Bobby tried to assure you it wasn’t. If Melissa was truly missing, then you were the one to blame. But you didn’t dare speak it into the air. You couldn’t.

“O-okay. We can look together, then.”

And so, the two of you set off on the search for Melissa Seresin. Missy, as her brother liked to call her. You thought of Jake, who was in charge of the senior boys’ cabin. You knew he’d be pissed that you didn’t wake him up immediately and tell him what was going on. He was very protective of his baby sister. But you didn’t want to involve him just yet. You had to try to find her yourself, first.

You set out to search all the places she frequented. Melissa wasn’t as outgoing as her brother. She had a vibrant personality, but also had introverted tendencies. She cherished her alone time, so it wasn’t odd for her to be at the lake, or the horse stables, writing. But she was always visible, and she had never sneaked off before. And certainly not after dark, either.

These woods were terrifying at night. It was easy to get lost in their vastness. Even a girl who knew her way around could get lost. But you prayed that wasn’t the case.

You took to searching her usual hangout spots. The lake, even though you and Bob had been there a half hour ago, and hadn’t seen her. Sure enough, she wasn’t there. Then, you took a peek in the horse stables. The camp had not yet obtained horses to occupy the stables, so it was just an empty building.

Hopeful, you followed Bob inside, holding your breath as he called out, “Melissa? You in here, honey? It’s Bob Floyd.”

But you were met with dead silence, so deafening it brought a shiver down your spine. “Oh, my God. She’s gone. She’s gone forever. This is all my fault!” You panicked, burying your face in your hands.

Bobby, ever the calm and steady one, gently soothed you. “Hey. Hey! Look at me.”

You lifted your tearful eyes to his face, illuminated by the yellow glow of your flashlight.

“It’s gon’ be okay, alright? We’ll find her. We just need to go get Penny and Pete and tell ‘em what happened. We can get a search party organized. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Lovingly, he took your hand, and together, you made the trek back toward the main part of camp, where the office, mess hall, and staff quarters were. The entire walk, your mind was spiraling with all the possibilities of what could have happened to Melissa.

Something was wrong. You knew it.

And, as it would turn out, you were, unfortunately, right. Melissa Seresin never was found. Not when you and the other counselors organized a search party. Not when the police got involved. Not when Jake and Melissa’s dad, an agent in the FBI, got his team involved. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Gone without a trace.

Jake blamed you. But that was okay, because you blamed yourself, too.

Your own negligence was the reason Melissa was gone. And the police grilled you for it. Much to your utter relief, the Seresins chose not to press charges. But you were left to live with the guilt, and that was punishment enough.

And now, here you were. Six years later. Wounds from the past only partially healed. Presented with an opportunity to go back to the place where it all started, and ended. If you did return, would those wounds reopen, and drain the blood from your veins? Or would those wounds finally heal?

And most importantly, did you have the guts to find out?

One Week Later

A ticket reading Harper, Michigan was clutched tightly in your hand, the paper rumpling from your grip. Your suitcase and duffel bag were beside you, as you stood at the bus depot, waiting for the Greyhound to pull up and take you to your destination.

“I still think you’re crazy for this,” Margie spoke from beside you. She’d come to see you off.

You turned to her, taking in her soft smile, despite her disapproval of your choice. “I know,” you replied.

“But I also understand why you want to do this. I really hope it gives you the closure you’re looking for.”

You threw your arms around your friend’s shoulders, hugging her tight. “Thanks, Mar. I’ll try to give you a call at some point in the next few weeks, but the only phone on the property is the one in the main office and I doubt I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can tell me all about it when you get back,” she assured you.

You took one last good look at her, as you knew you wouldn’t see her for a few months, if you fulfilled your commitment to work the entire camp season. The late morning sun shone down from the sky, illuminating her dark curls. Always so unkempt, but the style suited her.

“I’ll be seeing ya,” you finally said.

She nodded, squeezing your hand. “Take care of yourself. And good luck.”

The bus pulled into the stop as you bid your final goodbyes, and then, you handed off your luggage to the attendant to pack away beneath the bus before you climbed the steps into the large vehicle, flashing your ticket to the driver. You took a seat toward the back, settling in and placing your purse beside you, hoping that you would get two of the tackily upholstered seats all to yourself.

As soon as you were settled, you fished your Walkman out of your bag, unraveling the headphones and placing them on your head. As soon as you hit play, the opening sound of the 1975 Eagles album, One of These Nights, filled your ears.

You had purposely chosen this tape to accompany you on your trip, because it held a lot of nostalgic memories for you. Namely, it had been a gift from your Bobby. He’d given it to you in the beginning stages of your romance, after you’d expressed to him that the album was one of your favorites.

“I want you to have it,” he insisted. “A memento that you can have all the time, to remind you of what a great time we had together here.”

And you did have a great time. But the trauma of Melissa’s disappearance had soured the whole thing. All you had left of Bobby was this tape, and a few braided jute bracelets he had made you, from plant fibers. You still wore them on your wrist to this day.

He had tried to keep in contact with you after the camp shut down. He’d sent letters. Called your home phone. But you never answered. As much as you loved him, the reminder of what had happened was too painful, and you let your connection to him fizzle out.

But as you listened to the familiar cords, a rush of memories flooded you, the wave so intense that it took your breath away. Flashes of Bob’s beautiful face. Twinkling eyes, blushing cheeks, a crinkled button nose. The prettiest laughter you’d ever heard.

Large, warm hands exploring. Lips trailing searing kisses down your sternum. Whispers of your name. Groans of pl–

With a gasp, you snatched the headphones off your head, eyes flickering about, as if someone around you could have heard your thoughts. But everyone else was in their own little world, completely oblivious to the salacious flashbacks you had just experienced.

But they made you warm with shame nonetheless.

You’d be foolish not to admit that you’d thought of Bobby over the years. Looked back on your encounters with fondness. With desire. You’d been sexually involved with a few other people since then, but the entire time, you could only think of him. It was why you’d stopped seeing other people. They weren’t your Bobby.

You wondered if he thought about you, too.

More importantly, you wondered if he’d be returning to Camp Mitchell like you were. Were you ready to face him again? The thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You imagined he’d moved on. He had to. Hell, he probably had a wife and kids already. Imagining such a thing sent a queasy rush through you. You still weren’t over him, and you supposed you never would be. He was your first great love.

But he wasn’t the only person you would potentially face from your past.

Your mind went to the other counselors you’d worked with that fateful summer. Specifically, you thought of Jake Seresin. Surely he wouldn’t return to camp, right? Not after his baby sister had disappeared from that very place. It had to be too painful for him.

Little did you know, everyone you had worked with was also traveling from their own respective homes and cities, headed right for Camp Mitchell, just like you were.

The camp was founded by Pete and Penny Mitchell, a husband and wife duo. They had started it with the best of intentions. It was in its fifth successful year when you came on staff. And that just so happened to be the last year it was in operation.

Until now.

What had made the couple decide it was a good idea to reopen the camp, you had no idea. But you were going to give it a chance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

But several hours later, as the Greyhound pulled into the station in Harper, a tiny town boasting of a general store, a bus depot, and a long, winding road that led up to the camp itself.

As you stepped off the bus, you realized one very important detail: you had no idea how you were even getting up to the camp. Would they send a driver down to retrieve everyone?

Your question was soon answered when you caught sight of a large white poster board propped against a nearby lamppost. CAMP MITCHELL STAFF WAIT HERE. A DRIVER WILL ESCORT YOU TO CAMP.

With a sigh, you rolled your suitcase over to the post, hoping you wouldn’t have to wait long. And you didn’t. About five minutes later, an old teal-colored truck came down the road, its engine obnoxiously loud. On the side, Camp Mitchell was printed in bold letters.

You straightened, smoothing out your travel-rumpled clothes as you grabbed your belongings, prepared to help load everything into the truck. It didn’t even occur to you that you might know the driver. You expected to meet someone entirely new.

As soon as the vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb, you were already moving to the truck bed, hoisting your duffel bag over the side, letting it land with a satisfying thump.

“Here, let me,” a familiar voice spoke up, and in moments, a pair of hands were stealing your suitcase away, heaving it into the bed.

You looked up at the man assisting you, and your blood ran cold. As he turned from putting your luggage in place, he froze, too. Wide blue eyes, no longer hidden beneath a pair of wireframes, locked with your own.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But he did. In a voice as smooth and soft as butter, yet breathless with surprise. “Kit?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Kit. The nickname he’d dubbed you six years ago. It was something so simple. So silly. You’d had an affinity for KitKat bars that summer. They were the only candy bars you liked from the camp store. As a joke, Bobby had said “I should call you KitKat, since you like those things so much.”

And thus, it was shortened to Kit. The name stuck.

Hearing it again made your head spin. You felt woozy on your feet. You swayed a little. A memory flashed in your mind. You and him. Sitting under the old weeping willow. His fingertips wiping chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

It sent a burning ache through your chest.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “B-Bobby.” The first words you’d spoken to him in six years.

He let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

You gathered yourself, trying to regain your composure. “I didn’t either,” you whispered.

He offered a tentative smile. “That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you, though.”

You lifted your head, brow furrowed in confusion. “You are?”

“Gosh, I am. It’s been too long. I didn’t…didn’t know what happened to you. You never responded to my calls or letters. I thought maybe…” He wouldn’t speak it out loud. He couldn’t.

But you inferred what he meant from his tone. He’d feared that the trauma of what had happened had been too much for you to handle. That you’d succumbed to it all.

“I was working on myself. Trying to heal.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “I really am glad to see you, though. You look well.”

You shrugged. “I’m workin’ on it. And I’m glad to see you too.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and you realized how much he’d changed, but also stayed the same. He’d filled out. His shoulders were more broad. Muscular. His glasses were gone, presumably replaced with contacts. His hair, once close-cropped, was longer now, curling at the nape of his neck, peeking out from beneath the baseball cap he wore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He looked like a man.

But there was still that boyish glint in his eyes, and hiding behind his smile. Still that same gentleness reserved particularly for you. It was overwhelming, and you could feel your chest beginning to tighten.

“Are you, uh, are you ready to head up there? Or do ya need a minute?” Bobby asked, his voice low. Laced with concern.

You stepped back. “I thought I could do this. Maybe I can’t.”

He let you have your space. “Take all the time you need.”

The rush of memories flooding you was overwhelming. The last time you saw him. The last thing you said to him.

Six Years Ago

The day you left camp, it was raining. Pouring from the sky in sheets, washing everything in a gray hue that made the world look like a watercolor painting.

The sandy ground squashed beneath your feet as you walked toward that old truck, with the camp’s logo on the side. Your luggage was stuffed into the truck bed, wrapped in plastic garbage bags so it wouldn’t get wet in the downpour.

As you climbed into the cab, Bobby came running out of the main office, making a beeline for the truck. He scrambled to wrench open the door and join you inside, breathing labored as he settled into the seat.

For a few moments, it was silent, save for the sound of him moving to start the engine. He fiddled with the heat dial, hoping to reduce the fog on the windows, as the rain had made the air unseasonably chilly that morning.

You both sat there, staring out the windshield, watching the water trickle down the glass. He made no move to put the truck in gear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Bobby—”

“No, listen to me. I’m sorry it came to this. It shouldn’t have.”

“What’s done is done. Please, let’s just get out of here. I can’t stay in this place another minute.”

Bobby lingered for a moment, his eyes on you, even as you refused to look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you’d melt into a fit of tears. So, with a soft sigh, he put the truck in drive, and began the journey down the winding dirt road that led out of camp.

The trip was silent. You had nothing left to say, because you’d exhausted all your words these last few weeks. Countless hours of interrogation. Recounting that night over and over again. The conclusion was that a girl was missing, and it likely would not have happened if you’d been doing your job. That was a sense of guilt that you would have to live with for the rest of your life.

Bob pulled into the bus station fifteen minutes later, and you didn’t hesitate as you hurried to slide out of your seat, shoes colliding with wet asphalt. Your chest was tight, eyes blurring with tears as you rushed to grab your luggage.

“Would ya stop for a minute?!” Bobby exclaimed, reaching out to gently grab at your arm.

But you jerked away from him. “Please, don’t…don’t make this harder than it is,” you whispered.

He stared at you, brilliant blue eyes wide, filled with emotion. “So, what, you won’t even say goodbye?”

You feared that saying goodbye would break the dam, and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. You’d fall into his arms, sobbing your heart out, and you would never get on that bus. The man before you sighed, shaking his head before he moved to haul your suitcase out of the truck, placing the plastic-covered bag on the sidewalk.

“That’s it then?” He spoke, his tone grim.

Squaring your shoulders, you nodded, forcing yourself to hold it together. “Goodbye, Robert.”

You turned to leave, and he watched you go, his heart falling to pieces within him. He was losing you, perhaps forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to go after you. Wanted to shake you and tell you to just listen. But you were so entrenched in the trauma of what had happened that he wasn’t sure you could listen to reason at all.

So he let you leave. He watched you climb onto that Greyhound, bound for home, all while he was left there with a wound in his heart, wishing that things could have ended differently. Wishing that your love for each other had been enough to keep you with him.

But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. And that was something he had to live with.

May 1986

Seeing you again was a lot for him. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. Even more so, now, if that was possible. He was also hit with a rush of emotions. He never thought he’d see you again. When he’d received the letter from Penny, inviting him back to camp, he had thought about you, and was sure you wouldn’t come back.

But here you were, standing before him, uncertain and anxious, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But he kept his distance, not wanting to invade your personal space. You weren’t his any longer. He could not touch you the way he used to.

You took a moment to pull yourself together, taking a deep breath, counting to ten, trying to ground yourself. Then, you fixed your posture, and nodded in Bob’s direction. “Alright. I think…I think I’m okay. We can, um, we can leave if you’re ready.”

“Okay. Let’s go then.” He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into that old truck once again, just as you had six years ago.

Everything had come full circle.

Bobby rounded the truck and settled into the driver’s seat, and soon, he’d started the engine, pulling away from the curb, turning onto the road that led up to camp. Your gut churned with anxiety. You were really doing this. There was no turning back now.

The radio played softly as Bob drove. Some old country song. Hank Williams, you thought. Its grainy, peaceful tune did well to calm your anxiety. Your hands had stopped trembling.

“It’s been a while,” the man beside you murmured. His accent seemed to have gotten thicker, a slight twang to it.

“I know,” you replied, staring down at your lap. Then, “God, I’m so sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t have gone no contact like I did. I got the letters you sent. And I got every message you left on my answering machine. But I just…I couldn’t bring myself to respond.”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. I should’ve given you more space. I know everything that happened was a lot for you.”

“But that’s no excuse for me to just ignore you. It wasn’t right of me. I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s in the past, Kit. We can leave it there.”

It was that easy. A soothing sense of relief washed over you, warming you from head to toe. That exchange made you feel a little more at ease, and the conversation soon shifted.

“Did everyone come back this year?”

He nodded, humming lowly. “Most of ‘em, surprisingly. Bradley, Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, Javy. Half got here last night. The rest came earlier this mornin’.”

You hesitated, picking at a jagged nail on your right hand. “And…Jake?”

Bob was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, him too.”

You recoiled in confusion. “But…why would he come back?”

“Penny didn’t say it in her letter, but they’re doing a dedication ceremony for Melissa. There’s a new garden area they installed in the main part of camp. It’s gonna be called Melissa Jo’s Garden. They had a plaque made and everything. Jake agreed to come for the ceremony. I dunno if he’s staying all summer though.”

“Oh.” It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You had not left things on a good note with Jake. He harbored deep resentment toward you for neglecting to watch over your cabin. He blamed you for his sister’s disappearance.

“He seems to be handling everything alright. He might actually be okay with seeing you again.”

But you weren’t so sure. There was that nervousness again, roiling in your gut. Did you have the nerve to face him? And how would he react? You doubted he’d welcome you back with open arms.

You’d soon find out, because just up ahead, the Camp Mitchell sign could be seen. Large, deep green in color, with white lettering. So familiar, yet so foreign all at once.

You couldn’t believe you were back. What if this turned out to be the most foolish decision you’d ever made?

You didn’t have time to consider that, because Bobby was pulling into the common area in no time, and killing the engine. It was time to face the past you’d been running like hell to get away from.

As Bob got out to gather your luggage, you pushed the old, squeaky passenger door open and let your feet land in the soft sand.

The scent of pine and honeysuckle filled your nose. It sent an intense wave of nostalgia through you. So much had changed, and yet nothing had, all at the same time.

The layout was still the same. Clinic. Main office. Mess hall. Common area. But in the middle of the main entrance was a small garden. Stone paths weaved throughout. Spindly bushes, multicolored flowers, and other plants decorated the soil. Right in the middle of the garden was what appeared to be a large stone, covered with a tarp. You assumed the plaque for Melissa was hidden beneath the tarp.

And then, a voice caught your attention. You looked up to find Penny Mitchell approaching you. Blue cotton shorts, accessorized with a belt. A blue and white striped t-shirt tucked into them. A pair of hiking boots were on her feet. Practical, that one was. Always ready for an outdoor excursion at a moment’s notice.

You braced yourself, unsure of how she would behave toward you. She had rightfully held you responsible for Melissa’s disappearance, and you weren’t sure if she’d moved on from that. But, if she’d invited you back, she had to have at least found it in her heart to forgive you. You hoped so, anyway.

“Welcome!” She said, sweeping her arms out in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, um, thanks. Me…me too,” you said, unsure of the proper response.

Bobby sidled up beside you. You didn’t feel so alone with him there.

“Did Bob fill you in on everything on the drive up?”

“Kinda, yeah,” came your answer.

Penny nodded. “Once everyone is settled, Pete and I will take you on a tour. We’ve made a lot of changes these last few months.” Then she looked at Bob. “Would you show her to her cabin? We’ll put her in cabin five.”

“Sure thing,” he replied.

“We’ll have a little orientation meeting after dinner. There’s a whole itinerary we have to go over. I put a schedule in your cabin. Any questions?”

Yeah, lots. You stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you invite me back? After everything that happened?”

She regarded you silently, her expression neutral. Then, she said, “Because I believe in second chances. Or, rather, my husband does. He wanted to bring all of you back and start with a clean slate. Whether or not you’ve earned that second chance remains to be seen. But I hope you have.” Her words sent a painful ache through your chest. You didn’t blame her for being wary of you, but it still hurt.

As she excused herself, you were once again left alone with Bobby. “Y’alright?” He gently asked, cadence low and comforting.

You processed his words for a moment. “Yeah…yeah. I’m okay.”

“You need a minute?”

“No. Let’s just get my stuff to my cabin.”

With a single nod, he grabbed your suitcase and duffel bag, moving to walk up the hill. You followed closely behind, letting the rush of memories ebb through you. The cabins were small, build from dark wood, with green paint detailing the shutters and doors. They looked like they’d received fresh coats of paint, but otherwise, everything was still the same.

It didn’t take long to reach cabin five. Bob carried your things inside, and you slowly followed, your heart quickening as you stepped through the door. The scent of cedar and pine was familiar and painful all at once.

This wasn’t the cabin you’d been in when you were here last. You were in cabin two then, just one over from this one. Even so, it looked so eerily similar that for a moment, you were transported back to the summer of 1980.

Funnily enough, Bob had been the one to show you to your cabin for the first time that year, too.

“You’ve still got ‘em.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The bracelets I made you.”

Oh. You looked down, eyeing your wrist, where the two braided jute bracelets remained, from when he’d made them for you that year. Dyed faintly with berry juice. Fraying at the edges, but still intact. “Um, yeah…I do. Guess I just could never bring myself to take them off.”

He stepped forward, reaching his hand out. You let him gingerly take your wrist into his palm. His fingers brushed against the braided rope, and his touch sent goosebumps across your skin. “After all these years,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would fail him.

All at once, you were floored with an intense wave of emotion, so powerful it nearly drove you to your knees. It hit you out of nowhere, like a gut punch. “Bobby,” you whimpered.

Shocking blue flickered to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and his face crumpled, bottom lip quivering. “Kit.”

You weren’t sure who moved first, but you were in each other’s arms then, holding on tightly, as if the other would float away if you loosened your grip. The sound of soft sobs reached your ears, and you realized that they were coming from you.

“I never should have walked away from you. Never, ever!” You cried against his chest. “I’m sorry!”

“No, shhh,” he soothed, cradling your head against him. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s okay, you’re forgiven.”

You pulled back to look at him, shaking your head. “It’s not okay!”

Two large hands came up to hold your face. “It hurt me, alright? I’ll admit that. Broke my heart in two. But I never held it against you, because…because I knew everything you’d been through. I know that summer was the worst time of your life. It made sense to me if you didn’t want to speak to me ever again. I would’ve just been a reminder of everything that happened.”

“But I did want to talk to you, Bobby. I did. I just couldn’t get past the goddamn trauma.”

He shook his head, his face kind. “I know. But we’re here now, together. That’s gotta count for something.” Maybe we’ve been given a second chance, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to move too fast. He was well aware that your romance might never be rekindled. However, he was content to just remain friends with you if it meant that you would be in his life again.

You went quiet, letting your head fall against his chest again. You couldn’t believe you were here, standing in the middle of a cabin at the place where you had lost everything. It felt so surreal. It was as if a million years had passed since you saw him here last, and yet, it also felt like no time had passed at all.

There was so much that needed to be discussed. But there was no hurry. For now, you were just relieved to know that you had not burned a bridge with your first great love. If nothing else went right for you this summer, he was the one good thing that would come out of it.

“I’m glad…I’m glad it was you who picked me up at the station,” you admitted.

Bobby smiled softly. “So am I.” He searched your face, as if memorizing it. “I really thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

You hummed in agreement. “Me too. But I guess fate wanted us to meet again.”

“She’s a tricky one, that Fate.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Finally, he parted from you, though the absence of his body made yours feel cold. He didn’t want to overstep. “Well…I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He moved toward the door, but your voice gave him pause.

“Actually, wait for me. I don’t want to face everyone alone. I’d prefer it if we walked together.” Bobby might be the only person in this damn place to accept you again. You wanted to cling to that, and the security it provided.

He gave a single nod. “Alright. You want any help getting settled, then?”

Together, you set about getting everything situated. Bob went around and checked the cabin for spiders, because he knew you weren’t a fan of the little (and sometimes big) guys. He found one, which he very gently coaxed into his hand (murmuring “c’mon, little buddy” as he did) and released it outside.

Once you had your stuff organized, and did a quick clean sweep of the cabin, you were ready to join everyone else. There was a paper posted on the wall just beside the door, detailing the itinerary for counselors and other camp staff. In about fifteen minutes, dinner would be served in the mess hall.

Directly following that, there would be an orientation meeting in the meeting hall, a place where staff meetings usually took place. Assemblies with the campers were also held there. It ws in that hall that you would be forced to face people from your past. Namely, you’d have to face Jake again.

The thought made your stomach churn, and your hands tremble. But then, Bob’s gentle presence brought you back to the presence, and your racing heart calmed down a little.

He offered you a kind smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

Together, you walked out of that cabin and into the camp grounds, falling into silence as your steps synced up. There were so many things Bobby wanted to say, but he didn’t want to inundate you with questions and confessions, so he left it. He knew you had to be terribly overwhelmed as it was. He didn’t want to be the cause of more stress.

So, silence it was, all the way until you got to the mess hall. He stopped to open the door for you, and you hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

You liked the sound of that.

So, with a deep breath and squared shoulders, you stepped through that door, entering the room. Dark wood stretched out before you. The mess hall was a similar design to the cabins, just much bigger. High ceilings with unfinished wooden beams. Wooden floors and walls. Dark green paint detailing. Windows on each wall to let in natural light. A large stone fireplace in the middle of the room.

It was very cozy, but as your gaze shifted to the table of faces to your left, you felt a chill run over you. Here goes nothing.

You appraoched the table, taking in each person seated there. At the head of the table was Pete Mitchell, Penny’s husband. He lifted his head and offered a smile, but you couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes. Beside him, Penny glanced up at you.

Then, to her right, you saw Natasha Trace. Another person you had once had a connection with. She was good friends with Bobby before you met him. The two of them had gone to school, and eventually college, together. Beside her was a woman you’d never seen before, but judging by the way Natasha held her hand, you inferred that they were in a relationship. It was no surprise to you. Nat had always made it clear that she only had eyes for women.

Then, on the other side of the woman was Mickey Garcia, another one of Bob’s good friends. His best friend, in fact. Mickey offered you a smile, and you took that as acceptance of you. He always had been rooting for you, all those summers ago.

Beside Mickey was Javy Machado. You couldn’t get a read on him. His face bore a neutral expression as he regarded you. Back then, he’d been best friends with Jake, and had therefore been completely on his side. You assumed the sentiment was still the same.

Then, of course, there was Bradley Bradshaw. He was Pete and Penny’s surrogate son, in a way. After Bradley’s mother died when he was a teenager, Pete had brought him on to learn how to run the camp. One day, he would take charge of the place, after the husband and wife duo retired.

All of them were seated around that table, but you noticed that one was missing. You had no idea where Jake was. Maybe he wasn’t joining everyone for dinner. Maybe he’d left. A part of you hoped so.

“Wanna sit here?” Bobby asked, motioning to two seats next to Bradley.

You nodded, and he pulled out your chair for you. Once you were seated, he took his own seat beside you, between Bradley and you. The other man leaned over the table, and you got a look at his face for the first time in six years. He’d lost his baby face, and was now sporting a defined jaw. A neatly kept mustache shadowed his upper lip. You thought it suited him. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Bradley’s statement seemed to break the ice, and a few murmurs of greeting echoed around the table. Even still, an air of awkwardness hovered over the group. You wanted to crawl out of your own skin. But you were here now, and there was no turning back.

The food was set up around the table like a regular family dinner. Simple foods. Sandwiches. Veggies and dip. Chips. You grabbed a sandwich, but you found your stomach in knots, and the thought of eating anything nauseated you.

“Well, Penny, you did it. Got us all to come back. Good on you,” Natasha spoke up.

Penny shrugged. “Pete and I have been talking about it for a while. I know the way things ended back in ‘80 was…bad, to say the least. But we really feel that this place has potential, and we could breathe new life into it.”

“What do the Seresins think about that?” Javy asked, his brow raised.

“We think it’s an okay idea,” a voice spoke up from across the room.

The group looked up all at once to see the man stepping through the door. You tensed, taking in a breath. Your heart rate picked up, thudding against your chest as the chill of anxiety crawled along your spine.

“Really?” Natasha piped up.

Jake nodded as he approached the group. “Yeah. Seeing as how Penny wants to dedicate this place to Missy. We all remember how much she loved it here. I firmly believe she’d want it to keep going.”

Penny smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Jake.”

He stopped at the empty end of the table, hands coming up to rest upon the back of the chair there. “But I do have one question.”

“What’s that?” The woman asked.

Jake smiled, but you could tell is wasn’t a real smile. In fact, when you looked at his eyes, the pale green was filled with snake’s venom. “What the fuck is she doing here?” He jabbed his finger in your direction, and you froze, your eyes growing wide.

That was more like the reaction you’d been expecting.

Penny faltered, her smile fading. Beside you, you felt Bob stiffen. But you didn’t dare pull your eyes away from Jake’s accusatory glare.

“I-I just thought that–”

“I don’t care. Look, Penny; I really appreciate you putting this all together, but in what world did you think it was okay to invite the person who had a hand in my sister’s disappearance?”

“She isn’t the one who wanted to invite her. I am.” Pete stood from his seat, his eyes narrow. “I thought that she deserved a second chance. And I wanted you to find it in yourself to allow her that chance.”

“Oh, really? What, is she gonna bring my sister back? Hm?” Jake’s gaze was so cold. You wished the ground would swallow you up. How on earth could you have thought this was a good idea?

“No, but–”

“If she stays, I’m refusing the dedication. She’s the reason I lost Missy. She doesn’t get to just stand there and pretend she’s sorry, while my parents and I are still grieving.”

Your eyes had blurred with tears, and your chest was tight. You should never have come.

But then, “leave ‘er alone, Jake.” Bobby stood up, facing the other man.

“Oh, you coming to her rescue is rich, Baby on Board. Wasn’t it your dick she was sucking when my kid sister went missing?”

The room went dead silent.

Bob took a breath. Then two. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s here, whether you like it or not. And she deserves another chance, just as much as anybody.”

“No, you know what? You’re right. This was a mistake. I should never have come,” you spoke up, rising from your chair.

But Bobby grabbed your arm. “No. Don’t let him drive you away.” His eyes were pleading.

You pulled away from his grasp, sadly shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Then you turned to Jake. “I wish I could bring your sister back. But I can’t. You need to know that I cared about her. And I should have been more thorough when I did bed check that night. I regret it every day, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last six years. But my guilt is nothing compared to the loss you and your parents have had to endure. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll leave, if that’s what you’d prefer. I never should have come in the first place.”

With that, you ducked your head, pushing your chair out of the way as you scrambled toward the exit. You could hear Bob calling your name, but you ignored him, your legs carrying you quickly toward the door. Your vision had tunneled, and your chest was heavy. You had to get out of that building. You felt like you were suffocating. Like someone had pulled a plastic bag over your face.

You threw your arms out in front of you and shoved the door open, letting out a great heaving sob as you stumbled down the front steps. You made it a few feet from the stairs before you leaned forward, hands braced on your knees as you fell apart.

“Oh, God!” You cried. You heard footsteps quickly approaching. It made you whirl around. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Came your wail.

“No! I don’t care what he says, you deserve to be here!”

It was Bob, you realized.

“What do you want me to do, then?! He doesn’t want me here, Bob! And I never should’ve come. So just…just pull the truck around and I’ll get my luggage and get the fuck out of here.”

“No.”

“Either you take me back to the station, or I’ll get someone else to do it!”

“No other buses are running until tomorrow morning, so you can’t leave anyway! You’re stuck here for the night.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. “I just want to leave!”

He grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re not listening to me! I can’t handle watching you walk away from me again. I lost you once, and I’ll be damned if I let Jake Seresin be the reason I lose you again!”

And then, silence.

“Oh.”

He released your shoulders suddenly, his face stricken. “I-I’m sorry. I’m coming on way too strong. This is probably super overwhelming for you and I’m just making it worse.”

“No. No, you…you aren’t.” A pause. And then, “I don’t want to walk away from you again, either.”

“If you want to leave, then I’ll take you to the station tomorrow morning. But I just want you to try and stay. I know Jake doesn’t want you here, but I’m sure Pete can convince him to at least give you a chance.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

However, back inside the mess hall, a discussion was happening. “I’m sorry, Jake. I know we should have told you we invited her back. I take full responsibility for that oversight. But your parents…they knew she was coming. We checked with them beforehand. Your mom is of the belief that we should give her another chance.”

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. So, I know it’s hard for you, but if your mom is willing to forgive, then I’m going to respect that, and give this girl a chance. You know she’s lived with this guilt for so long. I think that’s punishment enough.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. If it was up to me, she’d be on the next Greyhound outta here. But if my mom wants her here…” He looked out the window, eyeing you and Bob as you spoke to each other. “It boggles my damn mind, but I’ll respect my mom’s wishes. That doesn’t mean I forgive her, though. I don’t think I ever will. But you go ahead and keep her on staff. Something tells me it ain’t gonna end well, but what do I know?”

And with that, Jake stalked off in a huff.

He swung the screen door open, and your head shot up, your eyes widening as you saw him coming down the steps. Bobby took a protective step toward you.

“You can stay,” Jake said as he walked past. “But only because my mom is the one who wanted you here.” Then he leaned in close. Well, as close as Bob would allow him to get. “But just know this. If you fuck up in any way, shape, or form, I’ll ship you back home myself. We clear?”

“Y-yes,” you responded with a curt nod.

“Good.”

And with that, Jake Seresin walked away.

You let out an unsteady breath, your shoulders slumping. Bobby looked at you, his gaze questioning. “What are you gonna do?”

You shook your head. “I…I don’t…”

“You don’t need to decide now. Just sleep on it. Make your decision with a fresh mind, alright?”

“Yeah,” came your whispered reply. “Yeah, that’s–that’s what I’ll do.”

He took his baseball cap off, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot for you. Do ya wanna just turn in early? I’m sure they’d understand if you skipped orientation.”

You considered his words, and finally, you shook your head. “No. I’ll, uh, I’ll try to go, and see how I do. But I think I’m going to just go and lay down for a while until then.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“I’d like that.”

With a soft smile and a nod, Bobby began to guide you back toward the cabins. Your hands were shaking, and your head was spinning. It felt like someone had shoved their hands into your chest and taken hold of your lungs, squeezing them with all their might.

It was a painfully uncomfortable feeling, and you hoped that it would pass soon. But as long as you were here, in this place that held so many memories, it would probably remain a permanent fixture in your body. The only thing that soothed it was Bobby’s presence.

Even after all these years, and after the sour note you’d left him on, being near him still felt so comforting and peaceful. It was an odd, but welcome, sensation. You hadn’t expected it to be this way. When you thought of seeing him again, you imagined it would be painfully awkward, or that maybe he would refuse to speak to you.

But this was Robert Floyd you were talking about. He didn’t hold grudges. And if he did, then he’d been deeply hurt beyond repair. It was a relief to know that things were not beyond mending between you. At the moment, you were too overwhelmed and emotional to even consider what it might mean for you in the future. You were just grateful that he was near you again.

So much had changed. When you’d left him, he’d been more gangly. Twenty-two years old. Large wireframes perched atop his nose. All round cheeks and softer features. Now, he seemed a little taller. Or maybe, his slight bulk made him appear so. Gone were those gangly limbs, replaced with muscle that had been defined by physical labor.

His hands, though. His hands had stayed the same. They’d always been big, but he’d grown into them. They suited him now. Strong and steady. Farmer’s hands.

“You want me to come get you when it’s time for orientation?” The low cadence of his voice jarred you from your daydream.

“If you would? I forgot to pack my battery alarm clock, so have no way of keeping time.”

He nodded. “Sure. I can get ya one of those clocks. I actually have two, you can have one of mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I don’t need two anyway. I’ll bring it to you later tonight.”

You shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Together, you stopped just outside your cabin, lingering at the foot of the stairs. Bob’s face was gentle, his eyes kind. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s a for you lot to be back here. And Jake didn’t help anythin’ by reacting the way he did. But if no one else is happy to see you, I want you to know that I am. I’ll respect whatever decision you make, but I really do hope you’ll stay.”

You considered his words, mulling them over in your mind. He didn’t expect you to decide at that very moment, and you knew your brain was too overworked to make that decision then as it was. So, the best you could do was nod your head. “I’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.”

He hummed, mouth quirking into a smile. “See you in a bit, Kit.”

You watched him walk away, his footsteps sure, his stance confident. He had a swagger to him that he didn’t have six years ago. It suited him well.

With a soft sigh, you finally turned and made your way into the cabin. As soon as the screen slammed behind you, you surged forward, collapsing into your bed, which was right near the door. Immediately, you buried your face in the pillow, and everything you’d been keeping inside came spilling out of you in bitter waves.

What had you gotten yourself into?

to be continued...

taglist (tagging those who showed interest; if you want to be added let me know)

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @oldfangirl30 @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @fairyheart @hangmanapologist @laracrofted @callsignspark @bobfloydsbabe @milesmillergf @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @floydsmuse @senawashere @creatchie8

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd angst #story: six summers

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localemofreak · 9 months ago

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The One That Got Away.

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Based on the song:

The One That Got Away - Katy Perry

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Story: you and Eddie were basically high school sweethearts, you were just completely in love with each other- seeming like you were never apart. But one day- you had to move away for college, and not wanting to deal with the stress of long distance, you broke it off with Eddie. More than a couple of years pass and you are now in your late 20’s returning back home for the first time since moving away- you couldn’t seem to forget about what you had with Eddie, but he seemingly moved on.. or did he truly??-

‼️Warning‼️: use of y/n, slight angst, reader moves away, reader and Eddie both get heartbroken, crying, huge time jump, mention of older!eddie, reader gets hurt even more, slight friendly affection, ending is kinda good if you think it is, etc. (please tell me if I forgot anything!)

—————————————

The year was 1986- you and Eddie had been dating since you were in junior year (and Eddie’s first retake of senior year) , and you guys were probably the cutest couple in all of Hawkins.

You were just obsessed with each other, spending every second of the day together, the love you had for each other just seeming to never go away.

The year you both graduated, you had planned spending that entire summer with Eddie- just having as much fun you two could have in this small town.

It seemed like it was a continuing cycle- Eddie would come pick you up from your house in his van, he would bring you on a date somewhere around town, you two would then end up making out in his van after (sometimes you two would hook up in the back, but it really depended on the time), then you would go to his trailer and chill around with him in his room until it was time for you to head back home.

You guys just seemed to have everything perfect, there was no issues at all- and Eddie was head over heels in love with you.

He genuinely thought you would be the one he would spend the rest of his life with and he would always tell you that..

That’s why you were so afraid to tell him that you were heading to California for college, but you knew sooner or later he would find out.

And then that dreaded day came..

Eddie was excited to spend the last few days of the summer with you- he had a whole day planned for you and him, but the smile he had on his face as he pulled up instantly turned into a look of confusion as he noticed you bringing boxes out to a small moving truck.

Eddie noticed how you noticed his van had pulled up in front of your house, causing you to quickly move a box onto the truck before you started to try and quickly make your way back inside, obviously avoiding Eddie.

“Y/n??- what.. what’s all this?..” Eddie called out as he made his way out of his van, the confused look still on his face.

You just froze in front of your front door, your back facing him to hide your tear stained face.

You just stayed quiet, hoping that he would just somehow disappear at that moment, but you knew he wouldn’t- and you knew you couldn’t have just left without him knowing, he had to know.

“I’m leaving..” you mumbled with your head down, Eddie couldn’t even hear what you said as he made his way towards you.

“Wait what?- y/n look at me please..” He said, still giving a confused look as he moved his hand to rest on your shoulder, trying to force you to turn and look at him.

You just quickly pushed his hand off your shoulder and shook your head, letting out small sniffles as you finally turned to face him with your tear stained face.

“I’m leaving Eddie.” You said, your tone slightly sharp which caused Eddie to furrow his eyebrows slightly, just still so confused about what was happening.

“W- okay wait, what do you mean you’re leaving??..” he said, looking down at you as he tried to bring one of his hands up to wipe the tears off your cheek.

Your hand just instantly came up to stop his, pushing it back towards his chest pretty harshly which caused him to look at you with a slight shocked look on his face.

“I told you a while ago I was planning on going to college Eddie.. in California- I’m leaving today.” You muttered through silent tears, shaking your head as you started making your way back inside your house.

Eddie’s brown eyes just widened as he quickly followed after you inside.

“Wait you never told me this-! I thought you were gonna stay here with me.. baby- wait please-!” He said, obviously panicking a little as he quickly stopped you as you got to the stairs, his hands moving to grab yours as he turned you to face him.

“Eddie please- I get that you want to just live your life carefree but I need to worry about my future okay??” You said through sniffles, pulling your hands away from his as you quickly started making your way upstairs to grab more boxes from your room.

“But what about OUR future y/n?!- the future that we promised ourselves?!” He called out, honestly totally freaking out over the fact you were moving away as he quickly followed you into your room.

As you grabbed a box, you noticed how he had basically blocked the doorway with his body, refusing to let you continue trying to run off while he talked to you.

“There is no future between us Eddie-!! Okay?? How can there be a future between us when I’m fucking halfway across the country?!!” You screamed at him, honestly not giving a shit if your parents could hear you from downstairs.

Eddie just looked at you with wide eyes in shock, you had never screamed at him before- he just stared at your red, tear stained face as he took a moment to comprehend what you just said.

“Wh-what… what do you mean by that baby?.. come on, you don’t actually mean that sweetheart..” he said, his voice soft since he was just kinda in shock- he didn’t want what he was thinking, to be the truth.

“Eddie this isn’t going to work out between us..” you muttered out with quiet sobs.

Those words just instantly hit Eddie like a train- his heart fell and shattered into his stomach, his face instantly dropped and his eyes started to fill with tears.

There was a slight ringing in his ears, what you said couldn’t be true- maybe he was just dreaming, maybe he was just having a truly bad dream and he would wake from it any second.

But seconds passed.. and it didn’t seem like he was waking up at any moment.

“..so- you’re just breaking up with me??..” he finally managed to mutter out quietly, his eyes full of tears and pain as he looked down at you.

You just stayed quiet, small sniffles escaping from you as you shook your head and looked down- unable to look up at him as small tears trailed down your face.

“Just like that-?.. we’re done??..” he got out in his shaky voice, his brown eyes slightly glaring at you.

You could tell he was upset and hurt- you could just feel the pain and anger from the glare he was burning through you.

He loved you more than anything in this life, and here you were- breaking his heart.

“Eddie.. you know I love you-” you got out quietly, your red puffy eyes finally moving to look at him.

His face was now red and just full of tears as he stood there, his fists clenched at his side- he didn’t know how to react.

At that moment he wanted to just punch a hole through your wall, but also he wanted to just break down on the ground and sob, just wanting to curl at your feet and beg for you to try and work things out.

But his body just couldn’t get him to do either besides freeze there while staring at you.

You decided after a moment of just staring at each other to make a move, your body slowly shuffling towards him as your shaky hand moved up to cup the side of his face.

You noticed how his eyes moved from your face to your hand, just looking down at it for a moment before looking back at your tear stained face- not saying a word.

“I didn’t want to do this Ed’s- you know that..” you whispered out through sniffles, looking up into his brown doe eyes.

But Eddie just shook his head and took in a deep breath, one of his hands moving to slowly pull yours off his face.

“No y/n… it’s fine- I’ll just get going now, I don’t want to slow you down.” He muttered out, his voice quiet but also slightly sharp sounding as he let out a tiny huff- his body moving to take a step back from you.

Your eyes just filled with more tears as you watched him instantly distance himself, the hurt obvious in his face and body.

You just shook your head as small sobs finally started to escape from you, your eyes watching as he brought his gaze down and instantly stormed out of your room.

You just broke down, your body forcing you to your knees as you leaned against your bed- the sound of heavy sobs escaping from you as you heard the front door swing open before slamming shut.

You just couldn’t seem to get your body to move- you were just stuck crying on the floor, all alone in your room full of small boxes.

Soon enough, your parents had slowly come upstairs, deciding to let you have your moment as they moved the boxes for you.

And after a moment- you managed to collect yourself, just completely numb with your tear filled eyes as you helped them put the rest of your shit into the truck.

This was just another step in your life, one that you needed to just walk over and move on from-

One big step.

-time skip-

It had been a pretty long since you have been back in Hawkins.

Yeah, you would visit here and there for holidays- but you never genuinely stayed and rested down back in your hometown.

You had decided to stay in California and lived there after you managed to find a pretty good job- you had even managed to find a few guys here and there and pretty much seemed to move on with your life.

But there was always that one thing stuck in the back of your mind- that being Eddie.

God you missed him- you missed what you had with him, you missed all the fun you used to have with him- you just missed him.

But it had been years, you were now in your late 20’s- you should have forgotten about him by now, he was just some high school boy that you loved, but it was way more that that..

and you knew it.

You had arrived at your parents place, being super glad they decided to let you stay with them for the time being until you find a nice little place either in or right outside of Hawkins.

You just missed home, after living in California for so long- you had started to get homesick, missing all your friends and family.. and certainly other things.

Currently, it was around 4:30 pm and your mom was starting to prepare a little ‘welcome home’ meal for dinner.

You had decided to help out, missing the feeling of just spending time with your mom after being away from her for so long.

As you guys were preparing dinner and shit- your mother had noticed that she had forgotten one thing, and she didn’t have any more currently.

So just to be nice and take the worry off your mother, you had offered to drive to the store to go pick her some up real quick- which she instantly appreciated.

You just instantly grabbed your jacket, quickly put on your shoes before you grabbed your car keys and sped out the house- just quickly getting into your car so you could pick up what she needed before dinner was finished cooking.

And when you got there, you did what you needed to do.

You walked into the store, grabbed what you needed, paid for it, and started making your way out the store.

You didn’t really recognize anybody in the store, I mean- you didn’t have a lot of friends to be honest living in Hawkins even though it was a pretty small town.

As you made your way back to your car, softly humming to yourself and just minding your own business- you heard a familiar voice.

You froze for a moment, just standing by your car as you listened to the voice speaking to somebody- at first it didn’t really click to you..

Who was it??..

As you slowly turned your head to look over at the person speaking, revealing their identity to you- you just froze.

You could recognize the long messy brown hair anywhere- the big shiny smile, the tall stature, the iconic brown doe eyes.. you could recognize them anywhere.

It was Eddie.

You knew it was rude but you couldn’t help but stare with wide eyes- he was even more beautiful now than he was in high school.

He had gotten more muscular, more tattoos that covered more of his arms and hands, also managing to see some poke out from the top and bottom of his shirt as he moved around carrying paper bags full of groceries.

He had grown a little scruff on his face and overall just looked more older and mature- this Eddie was wayyyyy different than the scrawny boy you dated in high school, he was now a man.

Out of instinct you wanted to go up to him, say hi, just try to make conversation with the man you once loved more than anything.

And you were genuinely planning on it- but as you took a small step away from your car, you froze once again as you saw a little girl quickly run up to Eddie and wrap her little arms around his legs.

She looked about 5, she had blonde hair that was wavy like Eddie’s slight curls- and she had the cutest little smile on her face as she happily squealed ‘daddyyy!!’ at almost the top of her lungs.

And as you stared, watching Eddie smile big down at the little girl while trying not to trip over her- his hands still full of groceries, that’s when you saw her.

A tall blonde woman- she looked gorgeous, she could have honestly been a model with how beautiful she was.

You watched as she appeared from around the car’s other side- a little grin on her face as she walked up to Eddie and quickly scooped up the little girl before pressing a small kiss to his lips.

Your heart just seemed to slightly jump up into your throat, and you just automatically put the pieces together.. you weren’t stupid after all.

Eddie had moved on with his life- he had gotten a wife, had a child- he had moved on.. completely forgetting about you.

You had definitely been staring for way too long, because as soon as the woman stepped away to put the kid in the back seat- Eddie’s eyes had glanced over, instantly making eye contact with you.

He seemed to instantly recognize you by the way his eyes widened, and his face dropped slightly- the same way it dropped when you broke up with him years ago.

You just felt a slight shock run through your body, instantly pulling you out of whatever trance you were in as your face turned red in embarrassment.

You just quickly shook your head and looked down, not wanting to waste another second of being there before you just quickly got back into your car and sped back off home.

You tried to play it cool for dinner- keeping casual conversation but not saying too much, also not staying too quiet to accidentally cause your parents to question you.

You just felt absolutely heartbroken with what you saw at the store, this is what is must of felt like for Eddie when you broke up with him- and now karma came back to bite you straight in the ass.

You just decided after dinner to go out and drive around, wanting to try and clear your mind from what you saw.

It had been years, it was obvious he wasn’t going to be stuck on you forever- he had to move on, and so did you..

But why was it so fucking hard?!

You had tried to get with other dudes, but they never worked out- all that you had in your mind was Eddie.. just Eddie.

Why did you ever break up with him-? It seemed to hurt you more than benefit you.

But now it was too late to cry and throw a fit about it- you now had to force yourself to move on, find somebody new.

And what better way to try and move on- then going to a bar??

You weren’t really interested in catching someone’s eye tonight- so you were just in casual clothes, I mean- you still looked nice but you just genuinely came here to drink and distract yourself a little.

You had sat down on the bar, quickly ordering yourself a drink.

You sat there for a while, staying to yourself as you looked down at your glass, just lightly fiddling with the rim of the glass.

“Funny to see you here..” you heard a voice say- and you instantly recognized it.

It caused a slight wave of shock to run through your body once again as you quickly picked your head up and sat up, your eyes slightly wide as you glanced over.

And there he was- Eddie Munson.

You didn’t notice how he had slid into the seat next to you, you didn’t even know when he arrived.

You noticed how he looked relaxed, there was slight tenseness in his shoulders as he sat up, but overall he seemed like he was trying to make sure you were comfortable.

“W-what are you doing here?..” you had managed to get out, your fingers nervously playing with the rim of your half empty glass.

Eddie had placed his arms on the bar, putting his tattooed and ring covered hands together as he rested against his elbows.

Your eyes had glanced down at his hands, instantly noticing the wedding band on his left ring finger.

But his eyes were on you- studying your face and eyes as he noticed you seem to slouch slightly while his eyes glanced down to his hands as he saw you looking at his wedding ring.

“Oh just.. y’know.. grabbing a drink, decided to come out and get out of the house..” he muttered, just letting out a small awkward cough as he moved his hands off the bar, causing your eyes to inevitably meet his.

They were soft, almost like a look of sympathy- it was like he could read your mind, but really he could just tell and know what you were thinking just by the look on your face.

“I’ve seen you got married.. had a daughter- they’re both beautiful-” you hummed out, just instantly getting to the elephant in the room as the bartender brought Eddie a beer.

You could hear the small sigh escape from his nose as he nodded his head and took a sip of his beer- just sitting there silent for a moment as he looked down at the bottle in his hand.

“Yeah.. they are my world.. we’ve been married for like three years.. and then we had her when we were still dating..” he muttered, his eyes moving down from the beer bottle back to you as you just nodded your head and sighed softly.

You would be lying if you said it wasn’t awkward- you two were literally the definition of awkward at that moment.

“Well- I’m happy for you.. truly.” You said, a soft tone in your voice and look on your face as you slowly brought one of your hands up to gently rest on his shoulder.

Eddie’s brown eyes just glanced over at your hand for a moment, sitting there quietly for a little bit before he looked back at you and gently lifted your hand up- deciding to hold it in his as he made eye contact with you.

“I want you to know y/n- you were the love of my life.. and I will still love you forever- even if we can’t be together..” he muttered softly, his hand giving yours a small squeeze as you felt his thumb run circles against the back of your hand gently.

You seemed to get teary eyed slightly as you looked into his eyes, a tiny sniffle escaping from you as you nodded your head lightly.

“And I will always love you… I always have Eddie- no matter what..” you whispered out as tears started to fill your eyes slowly.

Soon, Eddie’s hand had moved from holding yours to slowly hold the side of your face- a soft look in his eyes as he gently wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“Hey.. no crying on me, you know it hurts my heart-” he joked, a little stupid smirk appearing on his face which you couldn’t help but let out a tiny giggle at.

No matter what- Eddie always knew how to make you smile, even if you were sobbing and having a complete breakdown- he was always there for you to help and make you feel better.

“I’ll always be here for you sweetheart..” he said, his voice soft as he continued to look into your eyes.

You both just sat there for a moment- staring into each other eyes and just enjoying each other’s presence.

You even had decided to catch up on each other’s lives, and it was like you were back in high school joking and talking with Eddie.

Soon enough, it had started to get late- and Eddie had to get back home to his wife and daughter before he got in trouble.

You sat on the bar stool as Eddie stood up, leaving money to pay for his drink, as well as yours.

“It’s on me tonight, okay??- just, make sure to get home safe and we can still be friends… just- call me if you ever need me.” He said, his hand resting on your shoulder as he stood behind you.

You just gave a soft smile and nodded your head- and before Eddie walked off to leave, he placed a small friendly kiss on your cheek.

You couldn’t help but blush a little bit as you gave his hand on your shoulder a small squeeze.

“Byeee Eddie~” you said with a little grin, saying it slightly exaggerated to hint at him that he should really start heading home.

Eddie just let out a small chuckle and shook his head, giving a little bye before he finally left- leaving you at the bar to let you finish your drink and use his money to pay for your drink.

You had a relaxed smile on your face- just glad that even through everything.. you still were able to have Eddie in your life, even if it meant you guys were only friends.

(A/n: this took me so long to finish like holy shit, but I hope you liked it- 😭)

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #localemofreak #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #Eddie Munson imagines #eddie munson one shot

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medakakurokami · 1 year ago

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I finished over 100 visual novels, here’s a long post with some recommendations

Last month I hit 100 Finished VN’s over on the VNDB and I thought I’d shoot out some recommendations while the Steam Summer Sale is going on (even though some of these aren’t going to be on Steam)

I already have finished up some stragglers and caught some shorter titles so it’s up to 104 Finished, but all the better. I have been reading some VN’s since 2015, but it really became a hobby and a genre I was invested in during Covid lockdown in 2020. I had trouble getting into some of the popular titles, but a couple of games that were lesser known at that time really blew me away that year and I started digging more into the medium. I still have a lot to try out and other classics I’m still interested in trying, but here’s a top 10 I’m confident in recommending to most people, at least the kinda people that would follow this blog. A few of these recommendations are actually multi-part series, but hopefully accessible all around.

Planetarian ($10 on Steam and Switch, ~$5 on sale)

This is a very late entry onto this list but I think it’s an easy recommendation. This is a very short 2-4 hour visual novel that got a well received 2 hour movie adaptation in 2016, but it was strong enough that even while knowing the plot everything still hit hard. It is a story set 30 years after an apocalyptic event destroys most of the world, as a human junk-trader comes across a planetarium with a somehow-still-functional robot named Hoshino still performing her daily duties after 30 years without customers or coworkers. It can come across as a bit saccharine, but it is a quick, well made, and effective tearjerker.

Narcissu 1st & 2nd (Free on Steam)

Narcissu’s first two parts are pretty compelling stories to do with suicidal ideation within the scope of the terminally ill. Which is to say they’re also real tear jerkers, and pretty open about some harsh self-reflective emotions. They both have stellar endings, and can be quite immersive despite the very limited artwork (if the screencap looks weird, the game’s art exists within a narrow strip on the screen, with a sentence or two reading out the story underneath it). Maybe the least accessible on this list, but a $0 price tag makes it easier in some sense to get into.

Umineko no Naku Koro ni / When The Seagulls Cry (~$50 on Steam, $30 on sale)

Umineko you’ve probably already heard of, and here’s me recommending it. Umineko comes in two parts, on Steam referred to as the Questions Arc and the Answers Arc. Despite the split, the overall story follows the events of a certain day on Rokkenjima Island in 1986 as a family meets to discuss their inheritance and their family’s mysteries. Unbeknownst to them they are soon haunted, over and over again, by the revenant of the Golden Witch said to live in the woods of their family’s island.

I’m in the minority of preferring the Questions Arc, where well written and deeply human characters find themselves in deeply inhumane and nonsensical scenarios. The Answers Arc back seats some of that to start delving into an esoteric explosion of clues and backstories, and was still very entertaining even if I was more invested in the episodic stories than the overarching mystery. This may also be seen as inaccessible, $30-50 for a slightly older title and over 140 hours long on average playthroughs, but it is deeply absorbing.

Witch on the Holy Night a.k.a. Mahoyo ($40 on PS4 and Switch)

Mahoyo is me and Nasu’s marriage counselor, it really made me see the good in him. It follows a young witch co-habitating with her magic colleague and the puppy-like boy that unwittingly steps into their world at risk to his own life, just as unexplained apparent murders are witnessed in their town.

This could possibly be a higher level recommendation, though it was apparently intended to have sequels and you can somewhat feel that in the isolated feeling of its main conflict. Despite this, the game is definitely worth experiencing for its classy charm and extremely well made action sequences that at times make you forget you’re not watching a full anime film. It’s also a showcase of Nasu’s strengths in writing character interactions and comedy, and he finally lets Show take over and stops Telling you piles of mage society worldbuilding quite so often. It is also has some of the highest quality production value I’ve ever seen, second maybe to...

Marco and the Galaxy Dragon ($20 on Steam/Switch, less than $10 on sale)

Marco and the Galaxy Dragon is an explosive opera of art, energy, color, and of course music. It follows the orphaned Marco and her dragon compatriot Arco as they hunt for treasure across the cosmos, finding their way to Earth on the hunt for Marco’s mother.

If Umineko’s 140 hours seems steep, Marco has you covered with a quick 6 hour rundown of a rebellious orphan fighting back against her space alien menace to find her own sense of place and identity in the universe, along with ALL the friends she made along the way. If Mahoyo feels like an anime film sometimes, Marco actually just has fully animated FMV cutscenes that are fun as hell and have their own unique artstyle to the VN itself. Thousands of pieces of artwork and a 52-track OST fill the game’s short runtime with no cut corners and and overflow of passion from the devs. Honestly even if you don’t want to read it go buy it, it’s cheap and they earned it.

White Album 2 (You’ll have to be creative to find this one)

This is the only recommendation that’s currently only available in an adults only 18+ Rating for the English translation. That being said, it’s one of the few erotic VN’s that felt justified in its pornographic scenes. The story is split into two releases: Opening Chapter and Closing Chapter.

Opening is a short and powerfully delivered love triangle narrative following Haruki, Setsuna, and Touma as their hastily formed 3-man light music band falls into itself with feelings. It’s charming but gut wrenching and sweeps you into its drama very effectively before kicking you on your ass in the end.

Closing Chapter is a long and drawn out disassembling of their lives as they fail to heal from the wounds of the relationships seen in Opening. It, to great effect, takes the readers own experience with how fun and passionate the Opening Chapter was, and shows how trying to cling to halcyon days can make us so dispassionate about our present lives. Painful stuff! Good music, too.

The Princess, The Stray Cat, and Matters of the Heart 1 & 2

a.k.a. Noratoto ($40 on Steam for both, ~$15 for both on sale)

This is a very personal recommendation, and maybe one more easy to make on this blog where many of my followers might be receptive to sincere but slapstick ecchi comedy as art. Every route is highly different however and to me, some are pretty average for galge, while others stand out as amazing. The comedy writing as well feels like it was written by someone with actual comic writing experience, and not just regurgitating the usual ecchi manga jokes.

The general premise of Noratoto is the protagonist Nora, being transformed into a cat by Patricia the princess of the Netherworld, and he must reverse this curse via a kiss before it becomes permanent. A benign fairy tale premise, but one that somehow gives way to underlying stories about existence and finding purpose in families and where that leaves those without families or with abusive or divided families (it is from the same developers as Marco and the Galaxy Dragon, and the themes of finding identity without family match up very closely). Uniquely it is a visual novel written somewhat in 3rd person, narrated by a motherly voice as if the VN was being read to you as a bedtime story.

Like I said, it is dependent on route and some come across as your usual ecchi gal-game schtick, but some stick out, and if every route was as high quality as Nobuchina’s in the 2nd game, it would probably be my favorite visual novel.

The Original Ace Attorney Trilogy ($30 on most platforms, $10 on sale)

You’ve almost certainly heard of Ace Attorney already and have most likely played it. This is me telling any Ace Attorney fans reading that the original trilogy still reigns supreme (regardless of Turnabout Big Top). This is also me telling anyone who has held out on trying Ace Attorney to try it, and to start with the original trilogy.

Obviously this trilogy follows the Meme Man Himself, Phoenix Wright, as he defends the innocent and brings the guilty to justice acting as both lawyer and his own main investigator. While each case presents a unique mystery, the original trilogy has an underlying arc that reaches from beginning to end with a massive conspiracy that Phoenix has to breach to bring justice to the perpetrators and resolve the memory and regrets of his beloved mentor.

These games have some speedbumps as you may be banging your head against the wall trying to find the right evidence, but the experience that breaks through does so with gusto, succeeding on what it sets out to be: games that make you feel like you’ve brought justice to the world.

Utawarerumono Trilogy ($40/60 each on Steam, trilogy bundle $62 on sale)

Utawarerumono was my first proper visual novel, and it set the standards pretty high. I’ve posted about it several times in the last few years, and it remains one of my favorites. It is a labor of love on the part of the developers (the same developers as White Album 2), who developed the latter two games over the course of several years and have made this the spearhead of their company for the time being. Which makes sense, since it is about war.

The first game follows a masked man who is given the name Hakuoro waking up in a rural village with amnesia, confused about the strange population of beast-men living there. Despite not understanding his situation, his ingenuity brings the village prosperity. When the local lords try to put the village under their thumb, Hakuoro and the villagers are able to turn the tides against them. Their village grows into a kingdom as Hakuoro seeks the mysteries of himself and the world around him.

The latter two games pick up some twenty years after the conclusion of the first, and follow a man who is given the name Haku, waking up in the woods with amnesia confused about the... you get it. He is met by Kuon, a young girl on her way traveling to the capital of their nation of Yamato. Haku graciously accepts her help getting out of the cold woods, and decides to join her to the capital. As events play out, Haku finds himself under the direct command of the nation’s leader the Mikado, and carries out missions on his behalf as the nation continues to drag itself into war and conflict and Haku also seeks the truth of his identity.

These games are expansive in scope while still putting a large focus on the day-to-day lives of its characters. Around 100 hours across all three games it is impressive how much story it manages to fit in, but the pacing does bounce around between sweeping conflict and sleepy conversations. It is also in part, a strategy RPG game with the battles in the war being controlled by the player. These are decently made, especially well in the third game, but don’t ask too much of the player and the story remains the main focus and biggest portion of the runtime.

The House In Fata Morgana a.k.a. Fatamoru

($40 complete version on PS4/Switch, ~$40 main game + expansion on Steam)

I’ve gushed about this enough on this tumblr, I’ll keep it brief.

You are a formless soul who is led by the hand of a mysterious maid through the doors of a mansion on an unknown plane of existence. Through each door lies a story of the house in a different era, all following people bound together in ways that leave them cruelly and violently undone by the end of their stories. The connection between these stories, the mystery of the house and the supposed witch that resides within, and the mystery of You the wandering soul all slowly unravel in a bloody show of catharsis and soul. The game is dripping with traumatic poetic text, grating beautiful music, and all of its atmosphere geared toward being oppressive yet enticing. One of the best things I’ve read.

Honorable mentions:

Va-11 Hall-A and Endless Mondays get shout outs as some of the best Original English Language VN’s I’ve read, with cool artstyles and a mature cast they manage to be fun and relatable. Va-11 Hall-A delivers a great arc for its protagonist and Endless Mondays has great dialogue on the threat of automation of creative industries.

Grisaia Trilogy and Hatsumira are both absolutely raucous trilogies that are a lot of fun. Not wholly recommendable to all, Grisaia has some strong moments and a hilarious unique cast but is a mess overall (but we love Michiru). Hatsumira is a bit more consistent, a more stable and fantasy-oriented Grisaia.

A.I. The Somnium Files duology are detective games with highly divisive endings, but great comedy and characters that make them very easy to get through and enjoy the whole way to the end. It’s just a toss-up whether you’ll like that ending.

Sakura Wars games are finally being translated, and they are a great showing for anyone who wants to try some classic dating sim stuff but with some pizazz thrown in with the setting and mecha combat.

The Tears to Tiara duology by the same developers of Utawarerumono and White Album is also one to keep an eye out for. The first game's definitive version isn't available in English and the second game is stuck on the PS3 and no longer available digitally, but if they ever come out on Steam they are worth your time.

Nanairo Reincarnation and Kinkoi: Golden Loveriche are also two solid ecchi comedy galge. Both have surprisingly deep and genuinely heartbreaking underlying mysteries and conclusions.

I still have a lot I wanna read, Planetarian is the only Key novel I’ve read. On the docket are Labyrinth of Galleria, Little Busters, the 9 -nine- series, and Kara no Shoujo and White Album 1 releasing on Steam this year. Some classics I didn’t mention are Fate/Stay Night, Muv Luv, Steins Gate. Muv Luv I read Extra and enjoyed it, but never pulled the trigger on reading the rest, I may at some point on a whim. Steins;Gate I played through half of on PS3 and now my PS3 is in the closet, the VN is really good and has a unique atmosphere to the anime, buuuuuuut knowing the plot has made it hard to want to restart on PC or another console. Steins;Gate is good, if anyone is reading this far and hasn’t seen the anime or read the VN, do it.

#long post #i'll only tag the main ones #planetarian #narcissu #umineko #witch on the holy night #marco and the galaxy dragon #white album 2 #the princess the stray cat and matters of the heart #noratoto #ace attorney #utawarerumono #the house in fata morgana

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bvtbxtch · 1 year ago

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Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Part 2: Graduation)

Series Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?

Chapter Summary: Ditching Eddie and Chrissy might have been the best decision you ever made. You were now graduated, had a great group of friends and a new found confidence. But even though it was a great choice, you still felt a piece of your heart missing. With a few mysterious phone calls and a box full of things, maybe you were right in feeling a little cautious about your choice to leave the metalhead alone.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N

Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.

Word Count: 11.5k (SORRY)

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON THIS LITTLE STORY. Thank you for being patient with me as well. I was not anticipating in it taking a month to get this part out but I have had some health issues that really had to take precedent first before I could relax and start writing. Thank you so much to everyone who reached out to see if I was okay <3 I did just want to mention that after this part, I will NOT be adding a taglist. You are all so incredibly supportive but I have been (still) getting DMs and replies about being on the taglist and I am feeling a little overwhelmed. I will be making a masterlist and when I do make that, I will add everyone from the AH taglist <3 thank you for understanding!!

Prologue

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

June 1986

You had awaited this day for what seemed forever. You had planned what life after high school was going to look like for you since you were in middle school. Chrissy had infiltrated your plans as soon as you met; you often imagined the two of you moving to Indianapolis, or even to New York. You would get a shitty little apartment together and you would find jobs working in bookstores or coffee shops and have next to no money, but you would be together, and you would be on your own. Eddie also quickly ended up being part of your after school plans. He would move with you, or maybe get an apartment with Gareth and Jeff and then the five of you would go on adventures all over whatever city you overran. That was one of the things you loved the most about Eddie, his ability to find adventure wherever he went and whatever he was doing. Maybe there would be some opportunity for you and Eddie to finally get together-

The two people you never saw your life without were now but distant furniture in your mind. The past month brought you a lot of clarity. You actually hadn’t talked to either Eddie or Chrissy since the day after prom. Chrissy had come up to you the next day, pale face and dark circles around her eyes, but she still was glowing somehow. She laid her head next to your locker and greeted you with a lovestruck sigh.

“Wasn’t prom just an absolute dream?” You slammed your locker and rolled your eyes at her, which made her jump. “What’s up with you?” she pouted. “I want to tell you all about my magical night-”

“Yeah Chris. I know all about your magical night. Okay?” You snapped. She was taken aback. “Go talk about how magical your night was with someone else, got it?” You turned on your heel and walked away from the blonde. You were too angry to be sad. Too empowered to cower under her influence. You deserved better and you knew it.

“Woah, woah! What is going on? Did I do something?” she jogged after you. You let out a dry laugh and turned to face her.

“‘He only kissed you back because he felt bad for you” You mocked. Not breaking contact while the light drained from her eyes. Suddenly, her vision clouded with tears. In her drunken haze, she had forgotten the confrontation in the hallway. She knew she shouldn’t have said what she did. Deep down, she knew it was a lie, but she was too insecure to confront Eddie about his feelings for you. Driving you away was easier than her feeling like she was second best.

“Y/N I-”

“You know what Chrissy? I really thought that we were going to be friends forever. I really thought that you would have my back through thick and thin. But you showed me your true colors. You don’t care about me. If you did, you wouldn’t do what you did.”

“Did what I did? You kissed my boyfriend!” She yelped.

“Who you treat like shit, Chrissy! You kept him a secret so you could let Carver think that he had a chance of getting in your pants last night. You immediately took Eddie’s side when he told you what happened, and not trusting your best friend of over a decade.” She shook her head at you in disbelief

“A real friend would have been happy for me to find someone like Eddie - who makes me happy, and pulls away when he tries to kiss you.” She poked

“A real friend wouldn’t ever pursue a boy who I’m obviously in love with” It slipped out. You didn’t mean to tell her. You both stood staring at each other through wide, glassy eyes. You took a few breaths and your gaze hardened.

“I should have said this to you the night you kicked me out of your house. I should have said this to you last night when you let me down. You are a shitty friend, Chrissy Cunningham, and you’re a shitty person. Don’t talk to me ever again.” Before she had any time to respond, you turned and strutted to your next class. Your heart hurt, but it felt so good to be confident enough in yourself, to be able to tell her how you really feel. She was done growing and flourishing, you had just started.

Eddie was too cowardly to come talk to you about what happened. He was so painfully in love with you, he couldn’t stand to see you get hurt again. So he admired you from afar, secretly cheering you on, as Chissy now interlocked her arm with his down the hallways. He was tired of making wrong decisions so he let the decisions be made for him. He couldn’t help feel a pang of desperation as graduation grew closer and closer, and the one person he wanted to be around drifted further and further out of his reach.

You slipped on the scratchy green polyester gown, refusing to fasten your cap to your freshly curled hair until you got to the school. Your wedges felt foreign in comparison to your regular Reeboks and you were compulsively checking your compact mirror to ensure your lipstick was perfect. You were so excited to get the formal convocation over with to go party at Gareth’s house. You strolled into the gym to be greeted by a group of drama friends, you all shared niceties and took a few pictures with the polaroid you toted with you. You had formed a small circle of friends in the last month of classes. Although they weren’t Gareth’s cup of tea, he was happy to invite them to the afterparty if it meant that you had more incentive to be there with him. Since cutting off Eddie and Chrissy, you spend way more time in the theatre during lunches and with Gareth afterschool and before Hellfire. Old you would have hoped that Eddie saw and was jealous. New you didn’t give half a shit.

You heard a familiar voice call your name and as you craned your neck to make eye contact, you broke from the crowd to run into Gareth’s embrace.

“Wow, Emerson! Thought I would never see you in a cap and gown!” You teased, but beamed up at him.

“Shut up… You look great” he smiled back at you. You quickly took your camera from around your neck and held it up to get both of your faces in frame.

“One for the books” you quipped. He rubbed your back affectionately as the microphone on the stage squealed. You found your seat and begrudgingly put your cap on. As you scanned the chairs for any more friends, your eyes fell to the door, where Eddie and Chrissy came walking in hand-in-hand. As angry as you were, you were happy to see Eddie finally succeeding in graduating. It brought warmth to your cheeks and a small smile to your lips. What you didn’t expect is for him to make eye contact with you. You froze. His gaze was soft, almost yearning. He raised a hand to you and offered a small grin. You waved back, too stunned to smile. He looked good. He looked happy. It filled you with melancholy for a moment before you broke eye contact and put your thoughts back together. You were here to succeed for you. You had friends that loved and appreciated you for you. You were going to go run amuck in a new city and find other people who loved you. And it all started here and now. You were going to grab that diploma, get blasted, and get the hell out of Hawkins.

Your name was called and you walked across the stage. A louder-than-you-were-expecting applause erupted, along with whoops and hollers from Jeff and Gareth, and the hellfire freshmen that were in the audience. You bowed as your tassel was flipped and caught gorgeous brown eyes staring up at you again, clapping wildly and grinning. He was genuinely proud of you, you could tell. He was sorry, you could tell. When it was his turn to walk the stage, you were one of the few that clapped for him. But you stood up and gave him a loud cheer. You were proud of him, he could tell. As he hopped down from the stage, he ran up to Chrissy’s spot- where she held her diploma in her manicured hands - and picked her up. He planted a kiss on her lips while he ran out of the gym. As much as you have grown, you wished it was you he was kissing, carrying out. You let the thought leave as their silhouettes vanished. It was time to party and forget about feelings.

Gareth’s house was bustling. Music was blasting throughout the house and it was rattling in your ribcage. Your head was swimming with the ‘punch’ you had already consumed while playing flip cup and beer pong. You laughed with your friends, so truly glad to be able to forget about the impending doom of real life and have fun with your favorite people. You slinked your way through the crowd over to Gareth, who was tending the punch bowl. He smiled at you and handed you another solo cup.

“Having fun?” he asked. You wrapped your arm around his waist and rested your head on his chest. He threw his arm around your shoulders, putting a little too much weight on you. He was drunk as well. You giggled

“This is the best party. Thanks for hosting, Garebear” you slur.

“Woah woah, Garebear? Absolutely not.” he scolds, pulling away from you. You let out a full chuckle as you clink your cup with his and down your drink.

Your night progressed to telling embarrassing stories in the living room over a game of Jenga. Your head was spinning and as much as you liked this feeling of weightlessness, you were afraid you were going to drift away. You pushed off of the couch and weaved your way through the crowds to the back door. You slid open the screen and you were gratefully met with a cool summer breeze. It was still warm, but the wind gave you goosebumps. You sighed with content and closed your eyes as you leaned onto the deck’s banister.

“Having fun?”

Your eyes shot open and you looked over your right shoulder. In the shadows of the small outdoor light, you saw a tall, slender figure, and the outline of long, frizzy hair. Your smile faltered. He stepped into the light and took a drag from his cigarette

“Yeah, um… Sorry for disturbing you” you turned to walk back into the house

“Wait-” he grabbed your shoulders and turned you to him. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt like you were going to be sick. You were too close; Intoxicatingly close. You could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” You blurted out. He pulled his hands away and took a step back like you had burnt him. He looked guilty but sorrowful.

“Uh, we decided to go to different parties tonight.” He mumbled. You chuckled and glared into his soft brown eyes.

“So she didn’t want you to ruin the vibes of her ‘perfect party?”

“No, that’s not it! I just- I wanted to come here because… well because I miss you, and I miss hanging out in a group and I just wanted to come apologize, and, and I knew you wouldn’t hear me out if she was here too.” he panted. You could tell from his pleading eyes that he was serious. Your shoulders relaxed.

“Eddie, you don’t need to apologize to me, for anything. You got everything you’ve wanted. You graduated, and I am so, so proud of you for that. You got your band and your sheep. And… you have Chrissy. She’s a hot commodity... and you’re lucky to have each other. So you have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I hurt you-”

“And I’m over it. Look, I have no ill will against you, Eddie, but I think we just need to run in different circles for a while.” You murmured, eyes glued to your converse.

“I-is… is that what you really want?” Eddie took a step towards you.

NO “Yeah. I have a really great group of friends that love me for me. They don’t need anything else from me but me.”

“You’re still hanging around with Gareth, right?” Eddie hardens.

“Yeah. I am. He’s been the best friend I could ask for. He takes good care of me.”

“I’ll make sure he keeps taking care of you. I’ll kill him if he hurts you…”

“Save it, Eddie. I am so over your knight-in-shining-armor bullshit. You hurt me. You don’t get to decide who I hang out with or how I’m treated. You had a choice… You chose. So… deal with it.” The alcohol gave you more courage than you needed, but you weren’t mad. You were at peace. You turned and went back to the party. You didn’t realize, but that was just the way you needed to end your night. Closure and clarity. You returned to your spot beside Gareth to play another round of flip cup. Eddie selfishly couldn’t take his eyes off you. When he saw Gareth pick you up in a congratulatory hug, he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand picturing your story with Gareth and not him. So he slung back his last beer and stormed out the front door.

July 1986

The Hideout was never your favorite place to be. It looked like nothing more than a shack from the side of the highway that cut through Hawkins. Half of the lights on the neon side were burnt out, you doubted they had been changed since the joint opened in the 50s. The small bar had a few booths as well as tall bar tables, which were moved to create a makeshift dance floor in front of a dingy stage. The drum kit and microphones barely fit onto it, but you were sure that the ragtag group that made up Corroded Coffin would make it work. They always did before. There were three pool tables in the back of the space, behind the dark linoleum island bar. They had definitely seen better days, most of them missing pieces of velvet or pockets missing nets to catch balls underneath them. They were usually used for bikers or regulars to sit girls on them and make out. The bar smelt stale, like rotting wood, old beer and sweat. There are many places that you would rather be, but when your best friend begs you to make their regular crowd of 10-11 people (including staff) a person or two bigger, you go. Gareth treaded the idea of you coming to the show lightly, as you had not talked to their frontman since the graduation party. You felt no ill will and really didn’t mind being around him. You got your closure, and you were there for Gareth. No need to think too much into it.

You had seen Eddie around Hawkins in the last month. You had gotten a job at Family Video and would regularly work with Steve and Robin, who Eddie frequented. Your heart didn’t hurt when they talked about him anymore, and when he occasionally showed up to Family Video, or you saw him in Starcourt, or in the grocery store, you gave him the same curt but friendly smile every time. He understood the boundaries that you had given him. Friendly, but not friends. He always smiled back, but his heart sank. He missed you more than you could know.

You shuffled yourself into the closest booth to the stage and waited in soft anticipation. You hadn’t been to a Corroded Coffin show in months. It felt odd but familiar. You ordered yourself a rum and coke and absently sipped it as you listened to the Johnny Cash record that was playing on the jukebox.

You heard the door swing open behind you and a bubbly chuckle ring out through the bar. A sound that you definitely would not picture hearing in a place like this. You turned around to see Chrissy. Of course she would be here. Her strawberry blonde hair was curled in perfect ringlets and was held away from her face with a ribbon. Her long legs were framed perfectly under her light pink romper. Her waist beautifully cinched with a thick purple belt. Her lips were lusciously painted a glossy pink and her lashes were manicured to be wispy. She looked perfect, far too pretty to be here. Behind her followed Tiffany and Sarah. The trio picked a bar table that skirted the dance floor, across the bar from you. You, like most of the men in the building, followed their figures to their seats and Chrissy stole a glance at you. She looked at you and waved but you looked away, sinking a large gulp of your drink.

Chrissy had reveled in the fact that her prom stunt had secured her some extra attention for the last week or so of school. Everyone seemed to be talking about her in the hallways and although not all of it was good, she thought it was better to have people talking bad about you than not at all. Suddenly, all of the jocks were at her locker, or fighting to sit with her at lunch, desperate to show her that they were better than the freak she had somehow landed herself with. The attention shot her ego and popularity to an alltime high and she became the queen bee of Hawkins - there was no more sharing or cliques, everyone was under Chrissy’s spell. Everyone thought of her as either generous for going to prom with Eddie, or a down-to-earth girl next door because she kept associating herself with him. It made your stomach roll but she continued to smile sweetly at everyone in the hallway. She often let her gaze linger on you too long. She had everything she thought she wanted those last weeks of highschool. Everything but her best friend. And little did she know, the newfound fame didn’t reach beyond the month of June and the hallways of Hawkins High.

As she sat at her table, her manicured nails wagged at men who were ogling her from the bar behind her. She flashed a devious grin to her friends and waltzed over to the bar. You watched closely. Last time you had heard, she was still with Eddie… There's no other reason why she would be here. You heard her boisterous laugh once more as she strutted back to her table, a cocktail in her hand. You never would have thought that Chrissy would be the type to take advantage of anyone, but then again, in the past few months, you watched the person you thought you knew the best change into a stranger in front of you. You rolled your eyes and focused your attention to the glass in your hand.

You suddenly heard the humm of an amp and the vibrations of a bass being strummed. You looked up to see your friends taking the stage; All but Eddie. You cheered excitedly for Jeff, Gareth and Tommy but your heart pounded wildly in anticipation for the lanky metalhead that was missing. The few stage lights flickered as the energy and volume of the instruments rose and they began their set. Right before he started singing, Eddie sprang onto stage. There sure wasn’t a huge crowd, but everyone cheered as he appeared. You felt a lump in your throat as you watched the men perform, your eyes never leaving Eddie’s form. You felt your temperature rise what felt like 10 degrees. There was no doubt that he had charisma on stage, that is where he was born to be; But you felt all too emotional looking up at the man that you used to call your best friend. The man you thought that you might be in love with, the man that you thought you found closure with. You let yourself feel the waves of emotion flow through you with the music as you rocked back and forth with the rhythm. When applause erupted, you let your mind quiet with the music. The lights came back on and you grabbed your bag and your glass and got ready to return it to the bar. As you got up to leave, you noticed a gaggle of green letterman jackets had pushed their tables next to the one Chrissy and the girls were sitting at. Your anxiety spiked. You hadn’t talked to any of the jocks since prom and were fine with being the pariah of the group, but the fact that none of your friends were with you now made you feel nervous. You peered at the group from the other side of the bar and watched as Jason leaned in to whisper something into Chrissy’s ear. She slapped his arm playfully and giggled. You felt sick. You couldn’t wait for the boys to get their gear so you could say your goodbyes.

“Well, how’d ya like it?” The familiar voice instantly broke the tension in your body. You turned and gave Gareth a peck on the cheek.

“It was awesome, rockstar! You all were great” you say to Jeff and Tommy who were now sitting at the bar. They smiled and raised their fresh beers to you.

“So, you wanna get out of here? After party at my place. Got beer and the shit you like.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. As much as you wanted to celebrate their show, you needed quiet. You needed to just go home and shower off the gross conflicting feelings you had.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I just need to go home tonight, Gar.” he studied your face. The sheer amount of time that you had spent with him meant he could read you like a book. He scanned the dingy room and found the source of your anxiety. His gaze hardened at the green jackets infiltrating their space.

“They better not have said or done anything to you, I’ll kill them-”

“No no no they didn’t, just weird to see them all here” you reassured. Both of your gazes softened as you found the dark battle jacket amongst the lettermen. Eddie was scoffing loudly and flailing his hands. After a fantastic show, you expected to see him beaming, but his face was set in a hard scowl.

Eddie was slowly losing his patience. He had practically begged Chrissy to come to his gig tonight. He knew that there would be potential for the Hideout to start paying them for regular gigs if they brought in a crowd, but this was the opposite of what he wanted. When he was on stage he met with two pairs of eyes, your beautiful bright eyes and her glazed over blue ones. He was disappointed to see one of them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the whole set. He had forgotten how much he missed having you in the crowd. He could feel your energy from 20 feet away. It made him want to perform better. When he looked over to Chrissy’s table, he lost his spark. She looked disinterested. She was busy gabbing to her friends the whole time. Then, when he saw the meatheads walk in, he wanted to jump right off the stage and end the gig right then. But he pushed because at least they would be helping their audience numbers. Once Eddie took a moment to mentally prepare himself in the green room after the show, he plastered on a fake smile and sauntered over to Chrissy. He went to give her a chaste peck, but she turned her face for him to kiss her cheek.

“My lipgloss, Ed!” She giggled. Eddie rolled his eyes, shot her a sickly sweet smile and planted his lips on her cheek. The girls sitting next to Chrissy oohed and ahhed and the jocks kept to their own conversation, but their presence seemed like it was to mock him. He instantly got caught in his own head, wondering if their intent really was malicious, or if he was just reliving past high school trauma. He was pulled out of his trance when Chrissy’s manicured hand pulled on the lapels of his vest.

“Hey, rockstar! I’m talking to you!” She teased. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“Sorry, babe. What were you saying?”

“There’s a party out at Lover’s Lake, Jason’s parent’s cabin. Do you want to drop off your band stuff first then we can head out? We can grab some blankets and just sleep in the back of the van because I don’t know about you, but I want to be fully alone when we-” she blabbed, Eddie cut her off by taking her wrists in his hands.

“Woah, woah! I told you, the band is having their after party at Gareth’s house. You promised me we would be there. Come on, Chris.” Eddie pouted. She had been ditching him more often to go out with other people. He tried not to let his insecurities get the best of him, but it felt like he was losing her interest. This was something he wasn’t going to budge on. This was his night. She was supposed to be there for him. He couldn’t help but think that if it was you in Chrissy’s place, there wouldn’t even be a debate. He wouldn’t have even had to ask you to show up in the first place.

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to go out to the cabin?” She searched for any kind of agreement she could get from any of the jocks. They either politely smiled at her or avoided her eye contact. The invitation was for Chrissy not Chrissy and Eddie. “It’s going to be, like a million times better than sitting in Derek’s-”

“Gareth’s” Eddie seethed.

“Gareth’s - whatever - Gareth’s dusty garage. It’ll be romantic. We can have the whole ride up there just you and me…” She cooed, she moved her lips to the lobe of Eddie’s ear “and I can tell you how wet you made me watching you up on that stage” she whispered. Eddie knew that he should be turned on. But he was so angry with her that he couldn’t oblige her. Not this time.

“I’m not budging, Chris. We need to go to the afterparty. I need to be there with my boys, too. We have cause to celebrate and this is really important to me.”

“But, Eddie…”

Eddie was tired of the games, he was fed up with her tonight.

“Either we go to Gareth’s together, or we won’t be seen at any parties anymore.” Eddie challenged. He hated that he had to give her an ultimatum but if that’s what it took., then so be it. He didn’t want to be the tag along. Not tonight. Chrissy’s stare hardened at her. He had never challenged her like that before.

“Alright, Munson. You win. We’ll go to your little party.” Eddie rolled his eyes and told Chrissy he was going to check in with the rest of the band to see what the plan was. She nodded and Eddie turned away, giving the rest of the table a tight smile. He moped his way over to where you and Gareth watched silently. He seemed to light up a bit when he saw your inviting smile.

“Hey, congrats rockstar. You did an amazing job up there” You wrapped a hand around Eddie’s bicep. Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine at the contact.

“You think so? Thanks.” Eddie blushed. He was always one to be so sure of himself, this lack of confidence threw you off.

“Hell yeah I think so! It was the best show I have seen you guys do yet!” You exclaimed.

“Are you gonna come to the afterparty?” Eddie asked, hope splayed in a smile across his face.

“No, I gotta sit this one out. I have to open Family Video tomorrow.”

Eddie looked dejected. He was so happy to see you in the crowd, he had hoped he would be able to talk to you at the party and really apologize.

“Trust me dude, we’re all bummed. I’ve been trying to change her mind for the past 15 minutes. I even offered to call Robin to ask her to cover myself!” Gareth offers. You give the men a sorry smile.

“You’re gonna have a great time without me! It’s your night. Don’t let me ruin it.” God, you were so selfless. He couldn’t help but admire you in the dim light. So kind and so beautiful. It wasn’t fair how things ended between you. He was an ass. You turned away from him to walk to the door after sending kind waves to the band.

“Y/N” Eddie grabbed your wrist and pleaded with his chocolate eyes. You got lost in them almost immediately. You knew what you felt when he was on stage and you’re pretty sure he knew and felt it too. “Wait, please come to the-”

“Eddie! Are we going or what?” you hear a shrill voice from behind the man staring down at you. Chrissy looked pissed (in more ways than one). Her hands rested on her hips and she tapped her foot on the ground as she swayed. Eddie groaned and let go of you. The heat in your chest quickly faded. You peered around Eddie to smile tightly at the blonde. Her eyes widened and softened at your gesture. She slowly raised her hand to wave to you. You looked back to Eddie.

“You-you better go” you smile sadly at him. “You’re girl’s waiting for you. Have fun tonight, Eddie. Again, you deserve it.”

For the second time, Eddie watched you walk away and he fell into the impatient arms of a girl that he thought he loved. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your figure as you slipped out of the bar into your car.

As you got in, you let out a big sigh and punched your steering wheel. You knew you made the right choice by leaving and not entertaining anything with the man that trapped your heart all over again, but it would have been so easy to fall back into his arms and pretend like Chrissy didn’t exist. But you didn’t want to stoop to their levels. You didn’t want to get trapped in what was easy versus what was best for you. So you turned the key in the ignition and you quietly drove back to your apartment, retiring to a warm bath and a book, before crawling into bed and letting loneliness and the thought of Eddie on stage singing to you lull you to sleep.

September 1986

Your first summer of freedom did not follow the plan you thought you had perfected before graduating. Some of those things on your list looked similar, but with different people. You often went joyriding with Steve and Robin after closing Family Video and spent long nights out at Lover’s Lake with old drama club friends. It felt liberating that you didn’t feel a hope about a certain mop headed boy, even though you had been frequenting band practices and summer Hellfire meetings to casually see him as much as possible. You found some independence and even though you often felt lonely without Eddie and Chrissy, you knew you were doing fine without them.

You had just gotten home from a shift at Family Video. The last bit of humid summer air kissed your skin. You shrugged off your vest and other clothes and tossed them into your hamper before starting a steaming shower to wash away the day. You had been looking forward to treating yourself to a face mask, a steam and ending the night by curling up into bed with the newest Stephen King novel. You flopped down on your bed, dawning your favorite oversized tee shirt from your dad’s auto body shop and a pair of sleeper shorts. Your hair was tied loosely in a towel and your face felt clean and soft. You sighed with content as the night was finally yours. You don’t remember how long it took, but you dozed. You awoke to the record you had started playing being long hushed; your glassy eyes opened in accompaniment to the shrill ring of your phone. You grabbed at it and groggily answered. You were greeted by preppy sobs ringing through your ear.

“H-hello?”

“Y-Y/N” Chrissy wailed. You could smell the alcohol wrecking her through the phone. “I-I need you to tell me I’m not a bad person.”

You paused and almost laughed to yourself. “Chrissy, why are you calling me?”

“I, I just need someone to tell me that I am not a bad person, okay? No one likes me anymore.” You could hear hiccups between her sobs and shuffling from whatever party she was at.

“It’s late, Chrissy. You should go home and go to sleep-” You move to hang up the phone but her cry stops you.

“I did a really bad thing, Y/N and I need someone to tell me that I’m worth keeping around because no one likes me anymore. No one wants to talk to me and no one looks at me and I want boys to look at me and like me and-”

“Chrissy you have the boy that you love right now. What are you talking about? You have everything you could ever want…” You scoffed.

“Y/N, I, I don’t think I love Eddie. I don’t think I ever did.” Chrissy whispers. The phone stays quiet save for the party behind her. Her sniffles break the silence every few moments.

“What did you do, Chris?” Your head was spinning. How could she not love Eddie? One of the easiest people on the planet to love. He was the boy who knew how to make anyone feel special and wanted just by looking at them. He would drop anything and run to Chrissy if she ever needed anything and you knew that for a fact. You knew that he was eager to take others’ pain away and make it his to help. He was perfect, a treasure that deserved to be protected at all costs, not be treated like this. Eddie was probably alone in his trailer right now, worried about his girlfriend, or waiting to give her a ride home, while she’s calling you to tell you that she doesn’t love him? How dare she? You wanted to believe that the girl that you used to know was still in there somewhere. That Chrissy would never do anything to hurt someone that she cared about - even if she didn’t love him…

“Well.. there’s this party going on and, and all the old jocks are here you know? A-Aand Jason and I, well like we were always ‘will they won’t they’ you know? And i saw him at this party and Eddie was being a total jerk and didn’t want to come with me and he just doesn’t look at me like these guys do and-”

“What:” you scoff. “Like a piece of meat?”

“Y/N please. Like I am wanted, like I am attractive. Like I am a prize, okay? Eddie looks at me, but it doesn’t feel as good as when Jason or Andy or Patrick looks at me - like in high school-”

“Chrissy, that’s really fucked up and pathetic. Why are you calling me?”

“Because you’re my best friend - well, you were… and I-I-I miss you, I shouldn’t have stopped being your friend, and I’m sorry I let stupid Eddie come in between us.”

“Stop. Chrissy, Eddie didn’t come between you and me, You came between Eddie and I, and the shit you pulled was fucked up. So tell me what you want so I can get off the goddamn phone and I can rinse the disgusting feeling I have off for talking to you about this-”

“I cheated on Eddie”!” She blurted out. “I’ve been cheating on Eddie for months now. And I’m a bad person but it feels so good to be wanted, Y/N I can’t explain it.”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say, Chrissy. That’s fucked up, even for you. You have been the lowest of fucking low, but I never thought you would be the type of person to totally fuck up your relationship like that. I don’t know why you wanted to call and tell me this, but I don’t feel sorry for you. Not in the slightest. Goodnight.” You slammed your receiver down on your phone and felt tears prick at your eyes. Not your Eddie. Eddie doesn’t deserve this. You sat in contemplative silence - unwilling to believe the conversation you had just happened.Your phone rang again and you jolted in panic.

“Hello” you whispered.

“Hey, Y/N… Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up” You heard his gruff voice and your breath hitched.

“E-Eddie, why are you calling me?”

“Sorry, sorry I just - I’m kind of freaking out because I haven’t heard from Chrissy in like three days and I just got a call from her I think and she was sobbing your name before the line went dead… I - I was just wondering if she had called you or if something happened I guess. This is stupid I shouldn’t have called you” He sounded exhausted and like he had been crying.

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m just tired of these disappearing girlfriend tricks I keep getting fucking trapped in.” He lets out a dry chuckle.

“I don’t know where she is but I think I know where to find her… I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Okay?” You hear his long sigh over the phone and you wish that you could forget the boundaries that had built up between you and run to him. Tell him that you were there for him and kiss away his pain. Your heart was breaking for him (even though you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction… you had warned him.).

“Hey, Sweetheart?”

“What’s up, Eddie?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything-” you heard his voice crack.

“Eddie, it’s okay-”

“No. It’s not.” he cut you off. “I’m so sorry for the shitty person I had been. I fucked up one of the good things I had in my life because I got selfish, and in my own head. I never wanted to hurt you.. I - I just… I don’t know why I chose her. I wanted it to be you so badly, but I forced it.. And I just hope that I can convince you to be my friend again someday.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Ed.” with that you clicked your phone back to the receiver and threw on a flannel. Although you hadn’t been in quite some time, the only place that the meatheads frequented was the Carver residence on the other side of town. You never felt your place there, but you knew how to navigate it. You hastily started your car and set off for your destination.

Jason’s street was littered with abandoned station wagons and empty solo cups. You could hear the music blasting from the beginning of the cul de sac - your head already began to pound. You snaked your way to the end of the manicured driveway and slammed your car door shut. You trudged to the open front door, keeping your head down. As you passed through waves of people, you could feel stares into the back of your head and giggles of your name. You scowled and trained your eyes to search for a pair of tanned legs and a blonde ponytail. You paused in the kitchen, desperate to find Chrissy and your chance to leave when you felt a hand wrap around your waist and warm breath sneak up to your ear.

“I didn’t remember inviting you to my party… outcast” a baritone voice huffs.

“You didn’t, Carver… I’m picking something up and then I will be out of your hair. Don’t let me ruin your night.” You pull away from him but his grip on your waist becomes bruising.

“Aww, come on, outcast. Why don’t we party like we used to. You’ve been hanging out with the freaks for too long… Forgot how to have fun. Why don’t you let me show you what you’ve been missing, huh?” Jason spun you around so his piercing blue eyes were boring into yours.

“I would literally rather poke my eyes out with hot knives. Where’s Chrissy”

“Oh, god you really are a desperate frigid bitch, aren’t you? You know I didn’t want to believe Chrissy when she told me but, I guess she was right” The blonde sneered.

“Yeah, yeah, Jason. I get it. Go take your steroids and show the rest of your friends how manly you are… I’m not interested. Now do you know where I can find her, or did you lose the brain cells for facial recognition too?” Jason stared at you slack jawed, then his grin slid across his face. It made you sick.

“Well, when I left her an hour ago, she was - ahem - cleaning herself up in my room. Feel free to go look there if you’d like… But be warned, you might not like what you see up there.” He giggled. He brought his face into your cheek and your blood froze. He puckered his lips and planted them to the side of your face.

“It was… so good to see you again, Y/N. Glad to see you really did peak in high school… ugh and that says something, doesn’t it?” He breezed past you to leave you to physically recoil and regather. You wanted to turn around and leave… fuck Chrissy and fuck all of these people… but you had to do this for Eddie. You turned to the staircase facing the kitchen and pace up. Although it had been a long time since you had been in the Carver house, you still felt like you could clear the top floor in a good time. You past couples pressed against hallways and huddled into rooms. You hear giggles and beds creaking and girls crying, but no Chrissy.

You were ready to give up hope, having tried all of the door handles and being met with locked doors or your apologies for intruding. The last door at the end of the hallway opened as you went to reach for the door and you were met with the girl you had been searching for for the last ten minutes. Her eyes widened in horror and relief to see you. She looked like a mess. Her usually neat slicked ponytail was slated on the side of her head, flyaways crowning her. Her eyes were glazed over eyes were smudged black with mascara and eyeliner. Her flush in her cheeks made her intoxication very apparent and her lips were kiss-swollen and smudged. She sported one of Jason’s old Hawkins raglans in replacement of whatever tiny top she had worn to the party. You felt bad for her at first sight; pity running through your veins as her lips quivered. Her paused tears resumed as she wrapped you in a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming, Y/N. Thank you so much.” she sobbed.

“Yeah, Chris. This is fucked. Let’s go, okay?”

You guided the girl down the stairs and out of the house - refusing to look anywhere but the floor in case Jason returned to try and claim you as a prize again. Chrissy had blabbered nonsense all the way to the car while you tried to prevent her from going horizontal. You closed her door and paced back to your side of the car. You were greeted with silence and the smell of vodka.

“Who else, Chrissy?” you whispered.

“Wh-wha-”

“Who else did you fuck, Chrissy?!” you yelled, your eyes never left her figure, her eyes did not leave her feet.

“It was just Jason… tonight.”

“For fucks sake! Are you kidding me?”

“Can we just go? I know I’m a piece of shit okay? But some of us need the attention! Okay! I’m not alright with walking around feeling like I am fading away into no one and that no one cares who I am anymore! I want someone to look at me like other girls get looked at! I want to be like you where you can find other friends and you can go out and be effortlessly yourself and everyone loves you!” “What the FUCK are you talking about? You have a boyfriend, Chrissy. He should be the one that makes you feel like that. HE looks at you like that! He is the one that you should be loving because he loves you!” Chrissy let out a dry laugh.

“Oh come on now, Y/N you and I both know he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t look at me like that because he is too busy looking at you like that! You had me and you had him and it wasn’t good enough! So we both needed to settle for second best! And I am just not okay with being second best anymore!”

“You are the one that gave me up for all your popular friends, you and Eddie both chose each other over me! And look who is here picking up the pieces after you handed yourself out to the basketball team, and while your own fucking boyfriend traverses the streets of Hawkins because he has no idea where you are! I was fucking right. You both deserve each other.” You shoved your car into drive and rolled your car into the road. Chrissy silently sobbed while you focused your eyes on the night ahead of you.

Your ride was long and awkward. When you pulled up to your house, Chrissy seemed surprised.

“I can’t let you go back to your house like this, Chris. We need to get you cleaned up.” She nodded a silent thank you and the two of you retreated to the second floor of your house. You got Chrissy a change of clothes and a toothbrush while she was in the shower and put her alcohol drenched outdfit in the wash. You waited for her in your room. When she sheepishly entered, you gestured to the bed you had made for her on the floor. She settled into her blankets and an awkward silence covered you once again.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me… I don’t deserve it.”

“I know, Chrissy. But you need someone to help you make a couple good decisions tonight. That was a fucking mess, at Jason’s” You heard her breath catch in her throat. “You have to tell Eddie what’s been going on, Chrissy. And he’s going to hate you. But you can’t do that to him. You might not love him but you and I both know that he deserves better than this.”

“I know,” she conceded quietly. You laid your head on your pillow. Your alarm clock read 3:39am. You tossed and turned in your sleep all night, pictures of Eddie’s heartbroken face haunting your dreams.

You awoke to Chrissy folding blankets and stacking pillows onto your dresser.

“Hey, morning. How are you feeling?” you croaked.

“Well, I’m here and that’s a way better place than I thought I was going to be staying” Chrissy chuckled dryly. “Thank you again for last night, Y/N. I really owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it. I just hope that if the roles were reversed you would do the same for me.” The air between you seemed palpable, it reminded you of when Chrissy would be doing the very same thing after a weekend long sleepover. You both gave each other testing smiles and short giggles.

You dropped Chrissy off after stopping to get coffee for the two of you. Chrissy looked at you apologetically and unclasped her seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride” she offered

“Welcome. Good luck with Eddie” you mumbled. As badly as you felt for your old friend, you could not wait for her downfall. She didn’t deserve Eddie and he didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. But the light of old times seeping through the walls that you had rebuilt felt nice, even if it was artificial, fleeting. You flashed the girl a comforting smile.

“Thanks. I think I’m really going to need it. I really fucked up.” she looked down and began to pick at her nails.

“But this might be a learning lesson for you at least. I hate to say it but Karma can be a bitch sometimes.” you grab her wrist and squeeze. Your hands warm her veins and she relaxes into your touch. She pats you on the hand as she wriggles out of your car and trots to her door. She looks back at you before she closes the door behind you. She really stares into you as she raises a hand and waves. It was goodbye for good.

You got cut early from your shift at the video store.You were little to no help to the gorgeous head of hair working with you anyways. You tell Steve about your night, about Chrissy’s admissions and your call with Eddie. You were unsure of what your expectations were at this point. You call with Eddie shifted the dynamic of friendly strangers and you again found yourself battling between easy choices and choices that were good for you. Luckily for you, you were wasting time with Hawkin’s most eligible bachelor and love-life-advice solicitor.

“I don’t know, Y/N all I’m saying is there are so many guys in this town that would actually take you out and treat you right, you don’t deserve this shit” the boy quipped. You loved how honest Steve could be. He had quickly given you more examples of what a good friend looked like. “Like what about that Gareth kid?! Have you seen the way he looks at you? Worships the ground you walk on. Get a guy like that” Steve folds his hands on his hips. You scoff at him.

“Gareth and I are just friends. Trust me, we’ve gotten into all of that relationship stuff a long time before.” Steve’s eyes grew to saucers. You giggled. “It was one kiss this summer and both of us knew it wasn’t gonna happen, okay?” You rolled your eyes as you slid a box of freshly rewound tapes to him.

“Alright, alright - poor guy. I’m just saying. Munson? He should be old news. He and Chrissy deserve each other…”

“Maybe I should test drive a guy like you then, Harrington?” you sneered. He dropped the box, his back turned to you but you could tell his cheeks had flushed. “Or…Hargrove?”

“Hey!”

“Or-”

“Alright enough!” Steve chided. You suppressed your giggle. “You think you’re so funny, huh? I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“I know, Steve. Trust me, I wish I could move on. The two of them do deserve each other… But every time I think of them making up and going back to being good, it makes me want to rip my hair outI can’t stand it.”

“Damn kid. You really are down bad” Steve jabbed you in the side of the arm and you shrieked. “If you really feel that way then I guess you gotta let him know.”

“What if they do get back together and I laid it all out for nothing? Or what if I’m old news to him, Steve? I cant handle that…”

“Dude, if he makes the same mistake as he did at prom he won’t just have Gareth to deal with, okay? He’ll have me, Buckley and half of the Family Video clientele coming after him.” Steve glanced at the clock and gestured to the door. “Now get out of there and fix your bullshit life” he winks. Your smile lightens your whole face. You grab your bag from behind the counter and scurry out the door after planting a kiss to Steve’s cheek. He was left to the fluorescent aisles, shaking his head. You really did deserve better.

You pulled into your driveway, ready to spend the afternoon in Gareth’s backyard smoking weed and watching as many horror movies that you could before inevitably passing out. As you sauntered up to your door, you realized your plans for the day had been eviscerated. Sitting on your front step was a cardboard box that had been taped together neatly. Sitting on top of the box laid a note scrawled with purple ink:

“Y/N, I didn’t know who else to trust with this, and I am so sorry to ask.

Please take this box and give it to Eddie if you see him. I can’t bear to give it to him myself and I can’t tell anyone else about what I did.

Thank you for being such a good friend even when I didn’t deserve one.

Chrissy”

You let out a large sigh as you picked up the box and opened your door. You didn’t want to call Eddie, you were scared to find out how much he knew. Part of you wanted to leave the box on the doorstep for him to quietly pick up without notice, but you knew that your heart couldn’t handle knowing he was so close and you did nothing. So you picked up the receiver to your landline and dialed a familiar set of numbers.

“Hey champ! When you coming over?” A peppy boy answered.

“Hey, Gar. Something came up and I don’t think I can come over.”

“What did he do, Y/N?” Gareth’s tone hardened immediately. You could feel his anger radiating through the telephone.

“Nothing, it's more like what Chrissy did…” You spent the next half an hour telling Gareth about your encounters yesterday. Gareth huffed bitterly in response. Eddie Jeff and Gareth hadn’t been the same since their gig at the Hideout. Eddie began dodging band practice to be with Chrissy. He sacrificed DND campaigns and hellfire meetings to hide under the bleachers to go to the mall with Chrissy, or go to dinner with the jocks. Eddie became the most popular recluse. The three musketeers became strangers and the practices they had now - if any - were full of tension and unfamiliarity. Jeff and Gareth resented Eddie for the way his world revolved around Chrissy, and Eddie resented the two for not being happy for him, for not supporting him in what he wanted. In the middle was you. Eddie longed to be close to you again, but Jeff and Gareth refused to let him too close, you wouldn’t be hurt again, at least not on their watches. Although hostility ran high, all of you craved so much to be a group again, to be able to forgive and forget. But as all of you had figured out, that was much easier said than done.

“I’m coming over. I don’t want you to be alone when he shows up.”

“Gareth, I will be fine. I need to talk to him anyway” Your voice got quiet

“Talk to him about what?”

“I-I just need to know what happened between him and Chrissy. I need to know what that means for me, Gareth. I’m sick and tired of wondering if it could happen.”

“Y/N that’s a bad idea. We should just be done with him”

“I know, Gareth. He doesn’t deserve us. But I’m tired of being strong and stubborn. I just need to talk to him. I need to see him.” There was a silence over the phone. Gareth’ heart broke for you, but he knew that he couldn’t protect you from this.

“If anything happens, you give me a call and I will be over in 5 minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckle.

“Hey, now! I mean it”

“Gareth?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you, you know?” there was a loud sigh over the phone.

“Yeah I know. I love you too.”

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It has to be.” With a click, you were left to listen to the dial tone. You place your phone down and get yourself ready. You didn’t know when Eddie would be over, but you wanted to prepare before he did.

You sat in the shower until the water ran cold. Your skin felt scrubbed free from any imperfection, but it felt tight with stress. You forced yourself to make food but could barely eat. The rest of your evening consisted of staring at the same open page in your book while reruns of Match Game bled through the living room. The sun had set, along with the hopes that you would get closure tonight. Later, you heard the rattle of an engine outside accompanied by the thrash of Ozzy Ozbourne. You shot off the couch and toed your way to the front door. On the other side, you could hear a cacophony of swears and pacing footsteps. A few moments later, three hesitant knocks on your door. You took a couple of breaths and turned the handle. You were greeted with a tousled mop of hair and fair skin. His jeans hung low on his hips and he wore a thinning band t-shirt. His pale arms gripped his shoulders, flashing patches of inky figures across his forearms. His face, usually soft and blushing, looked pale. Dark circles encapsulated his coffee coloured irises. His nose was red and his lip was quivering. As awful as he looked, he was so tragically beautiful, like a muse. His lips still puckered and dared you to dart out and kiss them. His frame towered over yours and threatened to encapsulate you whole. You wanted nothing more. You gripped the inside of your doorframe in grounding, afraid you were going to evaporate into the cooling evening.

“Eddie, Hi” You squeaked. The boy looked dully at you as you took in his appearance. “I-I saw Chrissy’s note… the box is just inside I’ll-” You turned to leave but Eddie’s sigh held you in place.

“Fuck the box, Y/N” Eddies voice was just above a whisper. It rattled as if he were scared that if he spoke too loudly, the whole world would collapse in on him. His eyes lined with tears again. “What happened last night?” He demanded.

“I found her at a party… she had called me and, well I couldn’t just leave her there so…I took her home with me and she told me she was a bad person…” your eyes were trained to the floor. “I took her home in the morning and then the box was waiting for me after work, so you might have to fill in the rest of the blanks for me.”

“She fucked me over. That’s what happened! She went out and she fucked half the basketball team while I fucking waited for her to come back into my fucking arms! I tried to give her everything but nothing was ever good enough!” Eddie seethed. “ ‘I need more attention, Eddie’ or, ‘come out to this party, Eddie’ ‘ I want to do this instead, Eddie.’ ‘Why aren't you more like Jason, Eddie?’ FUCK I should have fucking known better, but I’m the fucking freak, I don’t get what I want. I don’t deserve to be happy because this is partially my fault too…” Eddie fisted at his hair while he paced on your front step.

“Eddie. I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t need to say anything but I told you so. That’s what I fucking deserve. You shouldn’t be sitting here pitying me. You should be laughing at me” Eddie whimpered. You had never seen him so small, so fragile. You wanted to rub the tension out of his shoulders and kiss his furrowed brows until he looked like your Eddie again.

“Yeah but I’m not because I care about you Eddie.” You reach out to touch him but he pulls away like you burned him. “I’m really fucking sorry that this happened. No matter what I think of you, you don’t deserve this.” Eddie stopped in his tracks and trained his eyes on your meek figure. You shuddered when you looked up and made eye contact with him. Your eyes were wet and his eyes were pools of sorrow, But his gaze held a foreign glimmer to them. You let Eddie study you in silence.

“What can I do to make it better?”

“I… I don’t know, Eddie. That might be a conversation to have with Chrissy and you-”

“I’m not talking about me and Chrissy.” Eddie held his gaze on you as he stepped closer to you. He smelt of weed, beer and cheap aftershave.

“Eddie-”

Swiftly, the boy grabbed your cheeks and collapsed into you, smashing his lips with yours. As much as your brain screamed at you to push him off, your bones melted in with his, finally giving into the temptation that your body so desperately craved since your kiss in the theatre. Eddie’s weight moved you backwards into your house and he closed the door behind him. His hands migrated down your torso to your waist as he spun you to pin you back up against your front door. You moaned into his mouth as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Your hands found their way to Eddie’s chest and you gripped his shirt. He was shaking. It felt like there were only two of you. Kissing Eddie was the most natural thing to happen. Every move he made, your body had the perfect response. He gripped your hips as you slid your hands around his neck into his hair, earning a moan from the metalhead. A pit in your stomach formed at his lips vibrating against yours and you thought your legs would give out. Eddie pressed his body deeper into yours and you swore you could feel his heartbeat in your own chest. As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, you pulled yourself away from him, his eyes still closed and lips slightly parted, also very much in shock as to what had just happened. You gaze up at him as tears unwillingly spill down your cheeks. A mortified expression painted Eddie’s face, immediately thinking that he had overstepped again. He waited for a slap to the face or for you to push him away and begin yelling. But you looked up at him through your glassy eyes and his heart backflipped. His hands returned to your cheeks, thumbs desperately swiping at your tears.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Eddie, we can’t lie to each other. You and I both know I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a long time” a sad smile crept across your face.

“Fuck. I’ve been doing this wrong the whole time. I’ve wanted you this whole time, Y/N. This whole time, not a day has gone by where I wish I could go back to prom night and make the right choice. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Eddie. But I don’t forgive you” Eddie’s heart sank. The flush he had earned left his face. His hands dropped to your wrists and he gripped tightly, like he was afraid you were going to disappear in front of him. “Not now at least. You fucked me up, Eddie. I waited for you and I watched you break my heart, and I will not be anyone’s second best ever again. I won’t be your second place again.” Eddie shook his head in understanding.

“What can I do? Please tell me what I can do.”

“You can work on how to make good choices again, Ed. Be my friend first. Prove to me you deserve that. Because I am not okay with being a rebound either. Prove to me you want me and this isn’t just a way to get over Chrissy, because my heart can’t take it.” you sob into him and he wraps you into a hug.

“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s you. It’s always been you, and I will spend the rest of my days proving how much I need you.”

“Okay, Eddie. I believe you.” You pull away from him and step away from him. “But we can’t do that again.” You both were too afraid to say anything more, so you stood in silence, taking in each others’ space. Eddie then reached for the door.

“I, I should really go, I guess. I’m not sorry for kissing you, but I’m really sorry if it upset you.” You grab the hand that Eddie had on your front door.

“Eddie, I know you aren’t exactly sober right now, or in the right state of mind to really be alone. So as your friend, I would really like it if you stayed here tonight, so I know that you’re okay.”

“As a friend?”

You nodded firmly.

“I would really like that,” Eddie smiled softly at you.

“Let’s go put a movie on and try and get some sleep.” You grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him up to your bedroom. Eddie climbed onto your bed as you leaned over your TV and punched in The Shining. You joined Eddie on the bed, both of you under the farthest edges of the blanket, too scared to cross a thin boundary that had been set.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Ed?”

“I was wondering If I- If It would be okay, could I maybe hold you?” Eddie murmured into his lap that he was staring at. “I just feel really cold. I don’t mean anything by it I promise. I just need… to feel something good.”

Wordlessly, you shuffled over to the middle of the bed. Eddie followed suit. You slid down so your head leaned on his chest, his arm draped down your back, his fingers drew circles on your hip. Your arm wrapped around him as a silent reassurance that you were not going anywhere. The steady pounding of Eddie’s heart and the rise and fall of his chest quickly lulled you to sleep. Eddie spent next to no time watching Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duvall, too busy studying every detail of your body that he could see. As he heard your soft sighs signaling you had fallen asleep, he silently cried into your temple.

Eddie Munson knew he was an idiot, that he fucked up. As much as his heart broke, he couldn’t help but be willing to break it over and over again if it meant that he got to call you his one day.

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