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talking could, if we'd just dare (you know that i'll forgive you), pt. 1

@steddie-week day 6: misunderstandings / "You Lookin' at Me Lookin' at You" by Ozzy Osbourne | ~5.5k words | G or T inspired by this post from @inklessletter!

If Eddie was being honest, he’d never actually paid that much attention to Steve Harrington. Sure, it was impossible not to know of him. But for most of his life it had simply been…unimportant, to know about the various goings on of the Class of ‘85’s royal court. Harrington was rich, a bit of a bitch, and kept company with other rich bitches, and so Eddie neatly categorized him with all the other pretty, rich jocks, and went about his day. Life was easier when there was an order to such things. Keep the smalltown, upper-middle class heroes to one side, and the freaks and degenerates to the other, and everyone could live in an uneasy sort of harmony until they walked the stage and left this rathole behind.

Of course, repeating senior year thrice had put a wrench in that plan.

Meanwhile, Dustin Henderson had thrown the whole damn toolbox into the whole not-paying-attention-to-one-Steven-MiddleName-Harrington plan.

And whatever the fuck was going on now had just blown everything out of the water.

(Or into the water, as the case may be—except the freaky parallel hellscape they’d all dove into seemed to be utterly devoid of the substance, so maybe the original metaphor worked just fine.)

So now he had to contend with the fact that Steve Harrington was a) a pretty nice dude to recent victims of smalltown witch-hunts who had just been thrust into what was apparently a years-long government conspiracy involving monsters and mind-controlling wizards, b) a bit of a dork, c) friends with a whole bunch of dorks, most of whom were four or five years younger than him, d) admirably—though perhaps self-destructively—protective of said dorks, e) just as much of a badass as Henderson claimed, and, most distressingly: f) extremely hot while doing so.

The being a protective badass part, not all the other ones.

(The other parts Eddie was retroactively filing under “adorable,” and “cute.”)

The expression Steve got on his face when Eddie lobbed his battle vest at him was also priceless, so at that point Eddie figured, fuck it. What did he have to lose from some harmless flirting? The chances of him making it out the other side of this both alive and un-incarcerated were dwindling by the second, and it’s not like he ran any risk of things going anywhere. (Harrington might be a good dude, and alternate dimensions and monsters and superpowers apparently existed, but Steve Harrington being anything other than a straight man with Traditional American Values™ strained credulity—and the Munson Doctrine—far past any acceptable limit.)

After all, if there was one thing that Eddie had actually learned from D&D, it was that a little bit of flirting and fun could take the sting out of any TPK.

🦇🦇🦇

If Steve was being honest with himself—which he’d been making a concerted effort to try to do since fall of ‘84—he could admit that his…jealousy…of Munson predated Dustin joining Hellfire. His whole climbing-on-cafeteria-tables schtick was kind of obnoxious, sure. But up until he’d wound up flunking his first try at senior year, Eddie'd had this sort of dorky-but-cool aura that Steve wished he was apathetic enough about other people’s opinions to achieve.

For a man who seemed to genuinely believe he was a coward, Eddie Munson was so…loudly and unapologetically himself. In Hawkins, Indiana—a place that quite literally wanted to kill him for how much of a freak he was. And, sure, some of that came down to the whole wanted-for-murder thing. But the man had also spent the better part of the past twelve hours flirting with a former jock—whom Eddie himself admitted to thinking was a douche up until a couple days ago!—so Steve had the sneaking suspicion that there was probably a corner of the town that already had it out for Munson long before Chrissy Cunningham’s body was found in his trailer.

And it wasn’t that Steve wanted to get into metal, or that Dragons game, or start wearing hand-printed t-shirts and attaching his wallet to a chain. He just wished that even after all the years of monsters, and government threats, and Russian torture, he didn’t still feel the need to hold himself to standards set by other people.

If anyone was a coward, it was Steve.

And there was something kind of…nice—reassuring, even—about the fact that Eddie seemed to feel the same way—but in reverse—about him. Like together maybe they could take the bravest parts of the other and make them their own.

And underneath it all, Steve could admit, was the fact that Eddie was…pretty.

So. Steve was having a bit of a crisis

“Robin, I’m having a crisis.”

“We’re all having a crisis, dingus,” she shot back, slapping at his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“No— no, not that.” Steve started emptying one of the bottles of vodka they’d procured into the half-dead grass. “I’m talking about the whole—” Steve waved a hand over towards where Eddie and Dustin were horsing around. “The Eddie thing.”

“Oh, you mean the fact that he’s been blatantly flirting with you since you got eaten by bats?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Robin, I’m talking about the blatant flirting.”

“And…why is that causing a crisis?”

Steve fish-mouthed at her. “B-because…” He leaned forward with a finger held aloft, ready to waggle it in her face. He paused. Frowned. “Well, because…” Steve threw up his hands. “I don’t know! A few days ago the man thought I was a douche. Literally just yesterday he was, like, hot-and-cold trying to throw me at Nancy, while also ogling my chest hair, and now he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and trying to get into my personal space? It doesn’t make sense, Robin!”

“Welcome to the club, buddy.” She raised her brows at him pointedly. And, yeah, that was fair, he guessed.

“And,” He started again, “And– I’ve also got Henderson insisting that I win Nancy back—he does seem to have finally dropped the whole are-you-secretly-dating-Robin thing, though, which—”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Yeah. But, on top of that Nancy has also been making eyes at me, but she’s still with Jonathan so I don’t know what to do about that. And it’s all just a mess, Robs! I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, well, that’s been true for ages, Stevie.”

“Thanks, Robin. That’s very helpful.”

“What? I’m just saying, if you’re going to tell me that I’ve got to ‘be myself,’ and put myself out on a limb with Vickie, while you’re out gallivanting with Helen or Jackie or whoever—”

“Heidi—”

“Whatever.” Robin waved her hand dismissively. “My point is: you keep throwing yourself at all of these girls who only know the old you—even if you’re trying to give them the new-and-improved model—and you haven’t even tried to go after a guy, and I think we both know why. And now you’ve hit the jackpot of what every tragic gay teenager in smalltown America can only dream of: you’ve got someone blatantly, and undeniably into you, who you also like back, and you’re telling me that you’re having a crisis? Need I remind you of the tableau we were treated to back at The War Zone?”

Steve sighed. “I know, Robs. You’re right.” Steve jammed a funnel into the neck of the bottle he was working on, and the two of them kept building molotov cocktails in the dying evening light, as Steve tried to reassure Robin that she still had a chance with Vickie—which she did, and Robin took his mind off his own impending disaster. But, if Steve had even a shadow of a chance of getting to hook up with a guy, Robin deserved to have a romance of her own. As much as Robin was afraid to see it, Steve was pretty sure he recognized that conflicted look Vickie’d had in her eyes when she’d spotted Robin in the store. There was something there, he was sure of it.

But maybe Vickie was like him. Maybe she’d only just learned this new thing about herself. Robin—and presumably Eddie—had had at least a couple of years to sit with this knowledge about themselves and come to terms with it. But for Steve (and Vickie?) it was still so scarily and terribly new. With girls, Steve knew how to play the field. He knew what was expected of him—what role he had to fill. But with Eddie a guy, all the rules went out the window; all of his scripts: useless. He’d have to start from scratch, and build something completely different from anything he’d been taught to want or expect before.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, though. Because Robin was right: they had more important things—end-of-the-world shaped things—to worry about. His love life could wait. Eddie could wait.

They all just needed to make it out of there alive.

🎸🎸🎸

Eddie survived.

They won.

Eddie survived, and so did everyone else, and they won.

Eddie kept repeating it to himself, because he couldn’t quite believe it.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of the fact that in the end running away was exactly what he needed to do to make sure they all made it out in one piece—more or less.

He’d walked right out of hell with nothing more to show for it than a few scratches up his sides, and a ring of bruises ‘round his neck. In the end, Steve was the only person other than Red who needed a hospital stay of any kind, because what would have been manageable wounds on day one, had become life-threatening after days of infection and improper care.

A future in a state penitentiary also seemed to be out of the cards. There was probably nothing any of them could say or do to convince the general Hawkins populace of his innocence, but Dr. Owens and his ilk had crafted a cover story believable enough to win over Powell and Callahan, at least. More to the point, though: all charges had officially been dropped, and the case was closed.

Now there was just the mortifying process of figuring out how to move on. Or at least forward.

That was the part you didn’t see in movies. No one showed the recovery. Because what was so interesting about watching someone pull their life and body back together? As though healing wasn’t just as much a part of the story as the falling apart.

Eddie wasn't ashamed to admit that it was driving him a bit mad. Because these kids all seemed to be seasoned veterans at it. They hadn't just snapped back to their relatively-easy-going-but-bitchy baselines by any means—Lucas and Dustin especially seemed incredibly subdued in response to the extent of Max's and Steve's injuries, respectively—but they moved around one another with a care and familiarity that spoke to years of experience.

“How did you do this?” Eddie scrubbed a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots. He and Robin were posted by Steve's bedside—he still spent most of his days semi- to unconscious. And while Eddie didn’t necessarily think it made a whole lot of sense for him to be spending more time at Steve’s bedside than the kids did, Robin was only ever dragged away from him kicking and screaming, and as the newest member of the apocalypse posse above the age of twelve, he was in desperate need of her guidance.

“How’d I do what?” Her typically-raspy voice sounded paper thin, and there were deep, dark circles under both eyes.

“I don’t know—!” Eddie flapped a frantic hand around, like he could manifest words and meaning into being. Something about it made the corners of Robin’s mouth twitch up. “Any of it? You–you dealt with a flesh monster, apparently, and you’re just...walking around on two feet, probably ready to graduate—which is more than I could guarantee for myself—”

“Hey, you will—”

“Not the point, Buckley! The point is, up until this new bout of freaky shit popped into existence, you seemed like you were walking around Hawkins without a care in the world. So how’d you do it? What’s your secret?”

Robin scoffed. “If you think I was walking around without being terrified every day, you either weren’t paying attention, or you’re a lot less smart than I gave you credit for, Munson.”

Eddie grimaced. “Sorry, sorry. That’s not what I meant, I just…you seem like you managed to pull yourself back together—whereas I feel seconds away from total collapse.”

“Yeah, that’s not just a you thing.” Robin twisted one of her rings around her finger. “But you wanna know what kept me upright? It was Steve. I don’t think I would have made it through the last eight months without him. And I know he’s gonna be alright, but I am still terrified that something will happen and he’ll get ripped away from me.”

Eddie frowned. He didn’t think he’d been picking up on those kinds of vibes between Harrington and Buckley, but the way she spoke about him… “Are the two of you, like, a thing?”

Robin barked out a laugh. “No! Not at all. I mean, he is the most important person in my life, and I would both kill and die for him. But, like, in a normal, platonic way.”

“...I’ll take you at your word for the ‘platonic’ part, but there is absolutely nothing normal about what you just said. You two are freaky for each other.”

Robin giggle-snorted, and it scrunched her nose up in a way that filled Eddie with warmth. Despite everything about his…everything, he’d never been short on friends—but it always felt nice to find another one. “Yeah, yeah I guess we are.”

“Mmm…Bobbie? ‘Zat you?” The beeping of Steve’s heart monitor picked up a little speed, and the man in question’s eyelids fluttered open. Robin immediately unraveled from the folded-up position she’d adopted in the hospital chair, and reached out to take his hand into her own.

“Yeah, Stevie, it’s me.”

Steve squeezed her hand, before his eyes started scanning the room—going wide when they landed on Eddie. “Oh. Eddie.” A light pink flush broke over his face, and he averted his gaze almost as quickly as he met Eddie’s. That kept happening whenever Steve woke up, and Eddie didn’t know what to make of it, but it always left him off-kilter in a way he didn’t want or know how to put a name to. He always took it as his cue to leave.

“Well,” he started, with forced cheer, and a shit-eating grin. He pushed himself up from the chair and dusted off his knees. “I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds to catch up,”

“Not lovebirds—” Steve slurred, at the same time Robin exclaimed, “Ew, Munson!”

Eddie just cackled and sauntered off with a jaunty salute.

🦇🦇🦇

Steve felt like he was losing his mind.

He'd been out of the hospital for a few weeks now, but he almost wished he was back there, because every waking second was just a never ending parade of pain and confusion.

Fuck, why did almost dying always hurt so much?

The upside of being awake and ambulatory, was that Eddie had finally stopped running out of the room whenever Steve was awake for longer than two seconds. The down side—which was unfortunately directly connected to the aforementioned upside—was that Eddie was being weird.

And, okay, Steve had an admittedly shallow pool of evidence from which to draw his comparisons from. But the fact remained that Eddie’s behavior towards him pre- and post-Vecna-slaying were worlds’ apart. And he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d tried everything: playing coy, bringing him small gifts, finding excuses to talk to him one-on-one when the rest of the group was gathered together. But none of it seemed to work.

What Steve wanted was to just be able to rock up to the trailer with a bouquet of flowers and ask him out to a night at Enzo’s. But even without the whole recently-wanted-for-murder thing, the two of them going out on what was obviously a date in Hawkins was not only a bad idea, but actively dangerous. And without his typical romance rituals to fall back on, Steve was at a loss as to how to proceed, when the object of his affection was acting so damnably fickle.

“I just don’t get it, Rob. One minute he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and getting all up close and personal, and the next he’s looking like I killed his cat!”

“You have got to stop using other people’s trauma as analogies for your love life, babe.”

Steve waved a hand. “Mrs. Henderson’s not here.”

Robin threw up her hands. “And that makes it okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Fine, whatever.” Robin ruffled her hair in frustration. “Maybe he’s just nervous!”

“Nervous! Why would he be nervous?”

“I don’t know, Steve. Why are you nervous?”

“Because I like him, and I don’t want to get hurt again!” Steve shouted, startling himself by the force with which the words came tumbling out.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed. “I mean, it’s not just that, though, it’s…” Steve waved a hand into the open air between them. “I don’t know how to do this, you know? If this was a girl, I’d be thinking ‘oh, she’s playing hard to get—’”

“I can’t believe that’s a real thing people do,” Robin deadpanned.

“I mean, sometimes it really is just that they don’t like you—except that then they don’t keep trying to, like, hang out and joke with you—which Eddie does, he’s just hopelessly awkward about it.”

“Steve. Eddie is a hopelessly awkward person. It’s like a defining character trait.”

“Well he wasn’t with me.” Steve wiped a hand over his face and groaned. “I’m just nervous I misread the whole thing, you know? And if I did, and I ask him the wrong thing in the wrong way…what if he doesn’t want to see me again? Like, at all?”

Robin reached out and took his hand. “I hate that you have to know what that feels like,” she said, soft and careful. “But even in the wild event that Eddie is either a: entirely straight, or b: just not into you, I don’t think there’s any version of him that wouldn’t want to talk to you at all. So you should ask him out.”

“Okay, Rob,” Steve sighed. “Only on one condition, though.”

“Oh, no. Ohhhh, no you don’t—”

“You’ve gotta ask out Vickie,” Steve finished, holding out his hand with a smirk.

“Uggggh, fine. Deal.”

🎸🎸🎸

Steve was acting weird.

He’d been acting weird since getting discharged from the hospital—acting all shy and blushy one second, and then turning around and bringing him a new set of dice the next—but it’d really been cranked up to eleven for the past week.

And, look, Eddie knew he was new to the monsters-are-real crew. He knew that in order to make space for him they had to alter whatever their established dynamics were to fit him into them. But that didn’t account for the fact that all of a sudden Steve seemed to be completely unable to string two sentences together in front of him.

Maybe the two of them weren’t quite friends yet, but he missed the ease with which they’d been able to talk and be honest with each other only a couple of weeks ago. Hell, they’d had more chemistry together down in the Upside Down.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Maybe that had been the problem all along. Maybe Steve had finally clocked his doomsday-flirting for what it was, and was trying to establish boundaries. Eddie thought he’d pulled back since they'd all crawled out of hell—broken, but alive. As soon as the danger was clear there was no reason to play the bit anymore, right? It’s not like his flirtation attempts had ever been more than a way to liven up what had been an unmitigated shitstain of an experience. Sure, Harrington was pretty, and nice—and there was clearly more to him than met the eye. Eddie had really enjoyed getting to know him over the course of the past few weeks. He wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, if he was being honest. But it looked like the door was closing on that chance if he didn’t straighten things out.

“Hey, Harrington?”

“I thought I told you to call me Steve, Munson.”

Eddie smiled his ‘malicious compliance’ smile and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking onto his heels as he said. “Alright: Steeeve.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a little smile on his face that belied the general bitchiness of the rest of his demeanor. “What do you want, Eddie?”

Eddie spread his hands out in front of him like he was unfurling a map into the air between them. “Just figured I ought to clear the air.”

Steve frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You know—the whole reason you’ve been all weird around me lately? I figured it’d be best if I put all of my cards on the table.”

The frown dropped off of Steve’s face—replaced by an expression that Eddie couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t…bad? There was no apprehension to be found there. Steve looked almost expectant. Hopeful, maybe. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense—but Harrington didn’t make a whole lot of sense, so maybe Eddie was just misreading whatever he was seeing there.

“You know it was all just in good fun, right? That it didn’t mean anything?”

The frown returned. “What are you talking about?”

“Back in the Upside Down. You know I was just messing with you, right, man? Just a bit of good ol’ fashioned I’m-about-to-die flirting, you know? Nothing to get all worked up about.” Eddie kept a wide smile fixed in place, tried to really lean into the whole ‘non-threatening gay guy’ vibe—an uphill battle for him, specifically on one of his best days. He’d do jazz hands if it’d help sell the performance any better. But each word out of his mouth felt more like a lie than the one before.

A thin fissure appeared on Steve’s face—a crack that Eddie could almost see through, but not enough to be able to make any sense of what was on the other side. “Oh,” Steve said. His voice was shaking and Eddie couldn’t figure out why. It set off alarms in the part of his brain that was always primed to run at the first sign of danger. “So you’re…not gay?”

Eddie frowned in confusion. Of all the ways he thought Steve might react, that was not one of them. So Eddie forced a laugh, trying to disarm the question. “Oh no, I am a flaming homosexual. I just want to make sure you know that doesn’t mean I’m interested in you.”

The frown slid off of Steve’s face, and the fissure smoothed itself away like it’d never been there. The Steve standing before him was blank-faced as a statue, and it made Eddie want to puke. In all his worrying about Steve being uncomfortable with the idea that Eddie was hitting on him, specifically, he’d entirely forgotten to be worried about Steve being straight up homophobic. At least he wasn’t throwing punches. That was something, right? But Steve was looking at him with such a totalizing coldness behind his eyes that Eddie felt like he’d been left out to sea.

Steve gave a stiff nod. “Right, of course not,” he said, but the words came out wooden. He threw a thumb over one shoulder and twisted on his heel, back toward the beemer. “I’ll just…I gotta go.”

And then Harrington turned his back to him, and walked away.

Eddie didn’t have a crush on Steve.

So why did it hurt so much to watch him leave?

⛵⛵⛵

Robin sped down the stairs when she heard the banging at the door. There weren’t many people who would bother turning up on her doorstep unannounced. Even fewer who would make such a concerted effort to try to knock it down with the force of their pounding fists.

She swung the door open to find a tear-stained Steve standing before her.

“What happened?” She gasped out. Was it back? It couldn’t be back. El and Will had both sworn on pain of death that it was over. Maybe there was a new horror in town? Maybe Nancy had gone missing? Or Dustin? One of the other kids? Maybe Eddie?

Steve cut off the racing of her thoughts with a sobbing gasp. “Nothing, Robs.” Somehow, he looked worse than he had after the Russians. His head was hung low, and Robin could swear there was a shadow of phantom-bruising around his eyes. Like he’d been emotionally decked in the face. He took a step forward to come inside at the same moment that she took him by the wrist and yanked him across the threshold.

“What do you need?”

“Bathroom,” was all he said. And then Steve swapped his-wrist-in-hers for her-wrist-in-his and he pulled her further into her own house, toward the second-floor bathroom. When they reached it, Robin plopped down on the floor with her back against the tub while Steve took up his position with his back pressed up against the toilet bowl.

“What happened?” She whispered.

Steve was silent for a long stretch of time. He turned his head to the side, as though he was trying to look out of the small frosted window high up on the wall beside him. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Who? What? What are you talking about, Steve?”

Steve turned back to face her. “Eddie. He doesn’t want me.” Steve no longer sounded sad—he sounded vacant.

Robin’s nose scrunched up like she’d smelled something wrong, because that didn’t make sense. Robin might not be good at clocking other gay people—she wasn’t that good at reading people, period—but it’s not like Eddie’s flirting with Steve had been subtle. And even beyond that, he was always looking at Steve while he was asleep in the hospital bed, in a way that Robin thought meant something… There was just no way that Eddie didn’t have at least a little bit of a crush on Steve, right? So what had he said to make Steve so certain about that he didn’t? “How d’you know that?”

Steve laughed, half-hysterical, as he tipped his head back onto the lid of the toilet. “He said it didn’t mean anything—the flirting.” Steve wiped a hand clear across the length of his face—chin to forehead—before digging his fingers into his hair. He laughed again. Or—it was more a puff of air, than anything else. And there was definitely no humor behind it. Just a bitter kind of resignation. “And then—he said—he told me he was gay, but that he just wanted me to know that it doesn’t mean he’s interested in me.” Steve covered his face with both hands and let out a broken sob. “God, he and Nance should compare notes.”

Robin could feel the lines carving an angry space between her eyebrows, and a fire in her heart. How dare he? Maybe Robin had misread Eddie's whole vibe toward Steve—but how dare he just trample all over and discard his heart like that? It didn’t make sense—but it was happening, and she had to fix it, because no one was allowed to break her other half.

“Hey Stevie?” She asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Yeah?”

“Where do you keep your little nail bat nowadays?”

🎸🎸🎸

Let it not be said that Eddie Munson didn’t know how to pull off a top-tier wallow. Ozzy’s pleading vocals were pouring out the speakers, while Eddie was laid star-fished out on the mattress, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers, and torturing himself with the memory of Steve Harrington biting into the tail of a hell-bat.

Is it me or is it you?

Things are so much different now

But nothing lasts forever

He really should have known that whatever kind of rapport he and Harrington had going was too good to be true. Once a rich dickhead jock, always a rich dickhead jock, right? He almost felt bad thinking that. But what else was he supposed to think? The second Steve Harrinton had found out he was gay he’d turned his back on him. That was pretty cut and dry.

A loud banging at the trailer door cut through his thoughts and over the sound of Ozzy singing looks and glances can't repair, talking could if we'd just dare.

Eddie had half a mind to just ignore it, but there were even odds that it was one of the UD Crew as it was a member of Hawkins’ resident angry mob. So Eddie peeled himself off the bed, leaving Ozzy blaring behind him, and yanked open the door. “What—?” He started, but came up short when he registered an absolutely livid Robin Buckley staring back at him.

Eddie hadn’t thought to take into consideration the idea that the person at the door might be a UD Crew member taking up the role of angry mob members. But Robin Buckley was standing on his stoop looking half-ready to commit a murder. The second the door was open, she shoved past him and into the trailer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Munson?”

“Wh-what are you talking about, Buckley?” Covering his face with a piece of hair wasn’t enough—he wanted to melt into the floor. Had Steve really sent Robin to beat him up for being gay? That was some next level gymnastics in avoiding making physical contact with another man so that you don't seem gay.

Robin yanked at her hair and started pacing around the common area, glaring daggers into the floor (but thankfully not at him). “What am I talking about, he asks! You really are a medical grade idiot, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“No, shut up, I don’t want to hear it.” Robin abruptly swung around on her heel to rush at him and jab a finger into his chest. “You broke Steve’s heart. And I don’t care if you were never into him—because I know that you can’t help who you like, or love—but you had no right to be so fucking cruel about it!”

A penny dropped.

“Robin. What are you talking about?”

Steve was heartbroken? That didn’t make any sense. He should have been relieved, he should have—

Robin laughed, hysterical, and threw her hands into the air. “I am talking about the fact that you told my best friend who has been pining over you for fucking weeks that all of the very obvious flirting you’ve been doing ‘didn’t mean anything,’ and that you just had to let him know that you weren’t interested in him specifically.” Robin paused to take a deep breath and kept barreling on. “And I get not wanting to lead someone on, Eddie—but even I know that was the least tactful way you could have gone about letting him down.”

Eddie shook his head, backing up toward the nearest wall like a cornered animal, because what Robin was saying didn’t make any sense. “I— I don’t—I mean, I do like him. I thought he didn’t like me! I thought he was straight!”

That brought Robin up short. Her shoulders remained set into a tense line, and her brow was still furrowed in distrust, but some of the unrelenting ire slipped away. “You didn’t—? Did he not—? What the fuck, Stevie!” The last part Robin muttered under her breath.

“Did he not, what, Buckley?”

“He didn’t ask you out?”

“No. What? Was he planning to?”

“Yes, numb nuts! Steve’s been trying to ask you out for weeks! I mean I guess mostly this past week—but that’s because before then he’d just been trying to beam the knowledge directly into your head through your thick skull.”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie’s heart dropped into his stomach as the full ramifications of what he’d said caught up to him.

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit,’ Munson.”

“Buckley—” Eddie rushed over to clap both of his hands onto Robin’s shoulders. “Robin. I’ve gotta fix this.”

Robin rolled her eyes. They were still creased at the corners, but the rest of her seemed to have softened a bit. “Yeah, you do,” she said—all low and serious. “You’re gonna have to fucking grovel.”

Eddie nodded. “Can you help me?”

Robin narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But let me make one thing fucking clear, Munson: I am doing this for Steve, not you, capiche? You put one toe out of line and I’ll go to the Wheeler house and grab one of Nancy’s guns.”

Eddie held up his hands in placating surrender. “Message received, loud and clear.”

Robin nodded, satisfied.

Eddie grinned back. “Let’s go get my man.”

there is now a part two!

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie week #steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #(albeit a couple hours past mignight my time but that's just been my pattern thus far)#I don't want to put a steddie fic in the robin or st/bin tags but please know that robin is central to all things in steve's life #including this fic #for everyone who wanted a part two: it now exists #read writes

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unstablenoodle · 7 days

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Just graduated, and I’ve been dragging myself by my hair through the last 4 years. here’s advice if you’re new to college:

Basic advice:

Make friends in your lectures. You will know some of those people all four years, and some of them are better at this than you. You’re still capable, but there’s always a bigger fish and you should make that fish into a study buddy

Get a job at a food court/ campus restaurant. You get a free meal, which might be your only one for the day if you don’t have a meal plan. Work can also be a mental break from academics.

Abuse office hours. Annoy your TA. make them scared to see you. TA’s are tired grad students and you won’t have a formal relationship with them: they are students too.

Study advice:

Flash cards are for review and rote learning only. 15-30 minute power review sessions for things you already know. If you’re going over familiar shit, do it in short, repetitive bursts.

Be the bitch with annoying decorative notes. Make it a game, it’ll force you to look at the material more. I will say though, make sure you decorate with purpose.

Those friends you made in lecture? That’s where you get the big studying done. If you’re going for a higher 4 hour long study sesh, bring other people. They know things you don’t and vice versa, so you can fill in the gaps for each other. This type of studying is for unfamiliar or confusing material.

Big study sessions usually only happen a couple weeks out from exams at most. Before exams, your homework is your main means of studying.

Just go to the lecture. I don’t care if it’s at 7:30 am, go. Participation points could be the difference between a B and a C.

TI-84 graphing calculator

Pub chem

If a professor, for some ungodly reason, says you aren’t allowed to work on the homework with other people, fuck that guy.

Your $168.99 textbook is likely a free PDF online.

Date someone who fills in your gaps. I dated an engineer I met in a physics class and it worked beautifully.

Mental health (my advice on this is very specific):

Basic advice: drink water regularly, eat vegetables, exercise. You know all this.

Stay far, far away from any substance called a “study buddy” or something like that

Get a hobby. Actually. Something to do in your free time to keep you from going insane. I personally like knitting and drawing, but it can be anything. I’d say avoid something involving technology because it’s easy to fall into that for hours at a time. Do something that engages your hands and your brain. You might not be creative, but creativity is good for you. Your painting looks like shit? The benefits you have reaped from its creation are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Good job.

If you are having any kind of hallucination (visual, auditory, presence, etc.), seek professional help immediately. I have lived half my life with the feeling of eyes on me and the presence of people who aren’t actually there and never tried to fix it because I could “work around it.” Just go get help. Hallucinations can also be a symptom of neurological issues and physical illness.

OCD and disorders involving psychosis are aggravated by stress. Your classes will stress you out. Disorders like this are scary and debilitating, so you absolutely need to be in therapy, possibly on medication. They also tend to be episodic, so you may have periods of recovery where your life quality improves. Do NOT be fooled: you still need to be in therapy even if you feel good. Preventative measures are the best measures!!

Social:

Get a job. Work friends are funnier and way more entertaining than any other kind of friend

I recommend a group of 2-4 people you chill with regularly. Movie night with them once a week (barring exam weeks and extenuating circumstances)

Talk with your roommates at least occasionally. It’s no fun living with total strangers.

Do not start smoking cigarettes. A lot of people are repulsed by the smell and it clings to you.

Hygiene. Mainly you should smell good. You don’t have to go crazy with an expensive perfume/ cologne, but shower and always have a decent scent. Also try not to wear stained clothes.

Not sure how useful this is, but it’s the first thing I could think of. I’ll come back and edit if I think of more.

#studybrl #studyspo #university #college #studyinspo

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lunarmoonanons · 1 year

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The Small Dragon’s family

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

King Jaehaerys and Queen Alyssanne had their youngest daughter, YN, late in life. Born in 84 ac she was the baby for her entire family, and in their eyes she could do no wrong. Age does affect the relationship between siblings and between a parent & child.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

Jaehaerys

The King was 50 years old when his youngest was born. He had known great loss at this point and his children were all growing. Some becoming too much to handle. He thought that his wife was passed the point of being able to carry children. Gael was a surprise, but YN was a miracle.

At first he was determined not to become too close to this child, due to his age and the apparent curse upon his children; he was frightened at the thought of loving someone just to lose them again.

That all changed when he was presented with his newborn. The babe seemed to already recognize him, and in her eyes he felt as though he was looking at the culmination of all his lost daughters. When he raised his hand to wave the septa holding her away, YN reached for him with a determination to be held. And once in his arms she touched his face and cooed, soothing the king's fears. At this point Jaehaerys was certain this child had the souls of all his lost daughters merged into this perfect little being.

And he would not let anyone hurt her.

Alyssanne

The Good Queen had believed, like her husband, that her childbearing days were now past her. When they lost Daella the two could only hold each other in the bedchamber, as when they were not in embrace they argued about who died. When Alyssa died in childbirth, Alyssanne was already pregnant with YN and had nearly lost her in grief. So when she had given birth to YN, the same thought that Jaehaerys had came to her. Miracle.

It was a long labor Alyssanne didn’t know if she’d make it and was prepared to meet her children in the afterlife. Gael, merely four years old, cried at her side. But YN arrived on the second day of labor, crying out with healthy lungs and red round cheeks. Alyssane’s mature hands reached for her baby, who immediately stopped crying staring into her eyes causing Alyssanne to weep anew in relief. Her baby was fine.

Since she had lost Daella, Alyssa, Gaemon, Valerion, in such quick succession,and having lost three of her children in their babehood, Alyssanne clung to her daughter. The grief over her marriage, her children, her seemingly never ending bad luck causing her to trauma bond with her. She and her youngest daughters became almost inseparable.

They will always be her babies.

Aegon

YN never knew Aegon, he had died long before she was born, but she would be told about him when Alyssanne lamented her fear to her daughter.

Daenerys

YN also did not know Daenerys, but she would constantly ask about her; almost as if she knew her or was connected to her. In the eyes of her father that was the case, in reality YN was a curious girl and wanted to know about her sister that never got to be her sister.

Aemon

Aemon was 29 when his baby sister was born. He was already a father at that point, but still loved his little sister. Often times setting up playdates with her and his daughter who was 10.

He, like his father, believed that his baby sister the merged souls of his lost sisters. Since he was close to Daenerys and Alyssa, Aemon practically saw them in every action that YN did.

The more “obediant” and “cautious” child, he tries to be a good influence and a lateral figure to her. YN earned his love when she crawled to him for the time in her life.

Baelon

Baelon was 27 when YN was born, and had lost his sister-wife a few months beforehand. Having been utterly devastated by the loss of his lover, and trying to care for a sickly baby, he was distracted from his baby sister at first.

In truth it wasn’t until YN’s first nameday, a few months after his newborn had died, did Baelon even meet his baby sister. Like Alyssanne he hyper fixated on the baby, but unlike his mother he didn’t just look at her and fall in love. It wasn’t until YN had started to cuddle up to him, and in her own baby ways tried to comfort him in his grief

He didn’t know if he believed that she was part of his dearly departed Alyssa’s soul, but he did know she was trying to comfort him in his grief. Eventually she would pull him out and he would be that boisterous, adventurous man people loved. He would initiate playdates with her and his children, and YN would get along well with Daemon.

Alyssa

Alyssa only ever knew YN as her future sibling. She would speak to her in the womb when she’d visit her mother, and promised to take her dragon riding and hunting and all the things she did as a child.

Though Alyssa passed when YN was in the womb, YN would say she already knew her. That she knew her through Baelon and that she was certain Alyssa would’ve been a great big sister to her. Sometimes YN dreams of the promises that were told to her in the womb

Maegelle

Maegelle had already been promised and a part of the Faith of the Seven by the time YN was born. The 22 year old had been there for her mother when she had given birth and proclaimed YN’s health and somehow “connection” to her deceased sisters were a blessing of the Mother and the Stranger. She in fact was the one to proclaim her as a miracle.

She would be a bit overbearing with trying to get YN to be completely devoted to the Faith, this would sometimes cause YN to push her away. But Maegelle adores her baby sister, probably more than her other sisters and believes she is a gift from the gods to ease their mother’s pain, as she like others believes Gael to be dim witted.

Overbearing but still loving, like that hyper religious family member

Vaegon

Like his sister Maegelle, Vaegon was already a part of an institution when YN was born. He did come for her birth, knowing how many people referred to him as cold, unpleasant, sour, or just not liked. Some others said his serious face would scare the babe. But he was a Maester, an important job! He never intended to seem cruel, he just took pride in his work.

Vaegon did not meet YN till she was 4, a little after Viserra died. He tried to avoid her, so as to not make her cry, but she sought him out. Climbing her way into his lap when he sat, and staring into his pale face. He was going to put her down when she did what none of his siblings, or any child, ever did. She reached up, touched his cold cheek. And smiled. A sweet pure giggle and a hug granted her his undying love.

She would always have the best care a Maester could give. He would ensure that.

Daella

Like Daenerys and Alyssa, YN never knew Daella. But YN’s kind nature as a child convinced many she was her sister either reborn or was guided by her spirit.

YN had told Jaehaerys once, when he was crying about the memory of Daella and how he shouldn’t have made her marry, that Daella wouldn’t blame him. That she was certain Daella still loved him and would want him happy.

Once again, confirming his being she had part of Daella’s soul in her.

Saera

Saera only knew YN a few months before she was sent to the citadel for “being a whore” (Jaehaerys you misogynistic cu-), but she loved her little sister.

In her words: YN had never judged her or looked at her as a shameful thing. Though Jaehaerys did try to keep them apart, believing that Saera would corrupt her, Saera always found a way to sneak into YN’s nursery and cuddle her.

When Saera was sent to the citadel, it was said YN cried for hours and could not be consoled, she would screech and kick in her father’s arms. This instance was repeated when Saera ran away to Essos in 85 ac. Breaking the older girl’s heart in the process as she could feel the pain of her baby sister.

Viserra

Despite the fact Viserra was 13 when YN was born, she had a close connection to her sister. Though they couldn’t communicate much due to the age difference, Viserra delighted in dressing her up like a doll and saying one day they’d both be the most beautiful women in Westeros. Though Viserra would be the prettier.

She believed she and YN were the closest, because Gael was dimwitted (the bios are so mean to that little girl) and Their other siblings were too old to get close.

Priding herself on being the “closest” to their baby sister, Viserra rubbed it in Baelon’s face as revenge for him refuting her.

Gaemon

YN never knew her brother Gaemon, whenever she asked about him she was only told he died. His death impacted how afraid Alyssanne was to lose this YN at birth.

Valerion

Just like Gaemon, his death shook Alyssanne to her core. Leaving her in fear for YN’s life at infancy due to her age when she gave birth

Gael

Gael was worried and a bit miffed when she heard mommy was going to have another baby, thinking mommy would just push her away because everyone thought she was dim. She infact could understand more than what others knew.

When YN was born, Gael loved her quite a bit. Though Viserra would tease that she was YN’s favorite, Gael was closer due to their age. They loved playing together and spending time with each other. Gael could understand YN better than the others because as children they could communicate in a way that only children could understand.

Eternal playmates.

In conclusion, everyone is either trauma bonding or projecting their needs and insecurities on poor baby YN. This family needs a goddamn grief counselor and a therapist.

Taglist:

@missglaskin

#hotd #yandere hotd #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere targaryens #targaryen reader #yandere targaryen #game of thrones #yandere game of thrones #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader #yandere #The Small Dragon

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mikerickson · 4 days

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5/7/2024 - 5/14/2024

Went down to NOLA/Mississippi (or as I like to call it: "The Big 'Sip") for a family graduation + Mother's Day combo for the third year in a row. I think we don't have any other imminent graduations on the horizon, so I think this is the end of that accidental tradition.

First few days were comically hot and humid. When even the locals are like, "yeah, it's been pretty brutal this week...," I don't feel bad for complaining. Every time you step outside it's like walking into an oven, except you're also soaking wet.

My father-in-law is for all intents and purposes a minor trickster deity made manifest. He has this inflatable black mannequin he kept hiding places, and it scared the living fuck out of me about four times before I had to hide it myself.

Andrew's family rescued this tiny little chihuahua mix named Decker (as in "Black & Decker", the tool company), and he is incomprehensibly small and sweet and pathetic. I do not understand how I share 84% of my DNA with a creature like that.

Andrew grabbed a lizard for me and was very brave when it bit him.

Went to one of the sketchiest bookstores of my life, located inside a woman's house in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Just floor-to-ceiling books in every nook and cranny. She was extremely chatty and offered - though we declined - some free kittens the store cat just had.

Speaking of books, by the end of this trip I had bought 18 new books, and had to get real creative to Tetris them back into my backpack for the flight home.

Andrew only made me pump gas once, but it did suck and I did complain the whole time.

We watched The Iron Claw because Andrew's family's movie prop business rented them a bunch of vehicles and background props for the movie. I was the only one who liked it.

Every meal was stellar, as always, but the Pho I had yesterday was the real standout.

My extremely particular at-home sleeping habits make any other arrangement unbearable, and I don't know how to un-condition myself from requiring four weighted blankets every night.

The return from a brand new rental car with all the latest bells and whistles to my 12-year-old jalopy is always so violently jarring. A real, "damn bitch, I live like this?" moment every time.

#life #GPOYW #v171

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alwaysteveswife · 1 year

Note

hey lovely! i just recently discovered your blog and O M G i CANT get enough!!! your writing is absolutely amazing!

i had a steve x reader request of you were taking them?

what if Y/N was the one being cursed by Vecna?

If this were our last night | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader.

A/N: Thank you so much, your words mean a lot to me 🥺 I'm glad you like what I do as much as I like to do it 💕. I hope you like it 🥰.

It's 1986 at Hawkins, the first year they thought everything to do with upside down was over. At least it was until the Chrissy Cunningham incident. The investigation at the hands of the teens soon began, bringing to light Hawkins' darkest secrets and, in the process, Y/N's troubled past.

Words: 638.

How long had it been since they had first gotten into all this upside down and shit? You were aware it was somewhere between three or four years, but you could have sworn it had been decades.

In '83 Will had happened, in '84 the demodogs came to Hawkins and Will had gone into some kind of weird trance that you didn't want to see in person, in '85 a giant spider formed out of human flesh and Billy died, but that was supposed to be the end, wasn't it?

Well, apparently it wasn't.

Now it was 1986, and fucking Dustin Henderson walked into your boyfriend's work screaming that it was very likely that shit had come back. Now it was 1986, and all indications were that you were directly related to all that shit.

How fucked up life could be when it put its mind to it.

"Honey?" Steve grabbed your shoulder gently, his brow furrowing slightly "is everything okay?"

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the school counselor's folders, more specifically on the patients' symptoms, on Chrissy's symptoms.

"Yes" you nodded again, fear beginning to cause your chest to tighten until you couldn't breathe "I am, I'm just a little...surprised."

Steve grimaced. He wasn't convinced, you knew that, but you didn't want to tell him the truth either, you didn't want to worry him any more than you had to, not when it could be a simple coincidence.

Just then a bell rang in your head. A shiver ran down your spine, the fear growing more and more. You closed your eyes for a second, just for a second, but the moment you opened them the whole atmosphere had changed.

Something vine-like was hanging everywhere, stuck on the walls and on the floor. Tiny particles of what you expected to be dust were floating all over the place and it was so dark you could barely see where you were stepping.

The second bell rang again as you left the room. You walked slowly down the hallway, stopping only when you had that clock in front of you.

It was attached to the wall, covered by those strange, disgusting vines. The glass was slightly shattered, but the hands and pendulum still worked.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

The third chime sounded, but this time, when you opened your eyes, it was no longer in front of you. The wall was empty, and large hands rested on your shoulders, shaking you slightly.

"Hey, pretty, what's wrong, why weren't you answering?" Steve's concern echoed in every word.

"I..." a sneaky little tear slipped down your cheek, remembering everything that had happened the last few days.

The headaches, the nosebleeds, the nightmares about the crash, the watch, your father.

"'You' what?" Dustin insisted, staring at you.

"I think he's coming for me" you whispered, your voice trembling, covering yourself with your arms, trying to lighten the burden you were beginning to feel.

"What?" you looked at Steve. He looked almost as scared as you did. His eyes were narrowed slightly, his eyebrows were drawn together between his brows and his jaw was clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grinding.

Suddenly, without your expecting it, Steve took your hand and started walking briskly to the exit of Hawkins High School, the kids following as fast as they could.

"Steve? What are you doing?" you muttered, shaking your head slightly.

"We can't just stand here and wait for whatever this thing is to come after you" he growled under his breath "I don't plan on letting it take you, not you" his face softened a little, letting you see the fear in his eyes, "I'll do whatever is in my power not to lose you, even if it means having to come face to face with the whole damn upside down."

Masterlist

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ignoremyworld · 2 months

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ACCIDENTAL DATE

Part 1/?

CHAPTER ONE: THE CRASH

Not proofread

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Code blue! Code blue! I need four nurses in here now!” Nancy shouted, rushing to the patients room

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since Steve’s shift started and he had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to save mrs.Andersons. She was a frail fragile old woman and Steve believed it was time for her to pass.

“Starting compressions” Steve said, putting his hands on mrs.andersons chest and beginning to start CPR. “Josh, see if you can find a DNR for mrs Andersons here.” He ordered, watching Josh run off to get her file.

“We’re losing her” another nurse shouted. Looking between the monitor and his watch in case she didn’t make it.

A long beeping noise made Steve sigh. “Time of death?” He asked the nearby nurse, hoping that mrs Andersons is in a better place.

“Time of death is 12:42 pm.” The nurse said. Jotting down everything he could in his little notebook.

When Josh came back mrs Andersons was gone. There wasn’t a DNR but they just couldn’t save her. Nancy called for another doctor to take her away for the mortician to take a look at her. Steve put his face in his hands, sat down and sighed, feeling like he didn’t do enough for her. He always felt like this after a patient death. Especially with people he was close to.

“Hey steve, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could. She was 84 years old, it was time honey” Robin said kneeling down in front of him to look him in the eyes.

“I know. I just can’t stop that feeling y’know? I wish I had done more for her before she passed.”

He says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I know Steve. It’ll be okay. Do you want a hug?” Robin opened her arms for Steve to fall into, gently squeezing him and rubbing his back.

The sound of doctors and machines and people faintly talking was tuned out. He thought back to when his grandma passed. Sitting there beside her hospital bed and crying because he knew she was gone even before she left. She died holding his hand and rubbing it the way she used to when she was able to stand up and be at home.

She was like a mother to him. With his parents not being around as much she was left to take care of him. He remembers the last time they talked before she went to the hospital.

“Now listen Stevie. One day, youre gonna get two letters on your wrist. Just below the thumb. Those are your soulmates initials. And you’re gonna fall in love. And when that day comes, if the person you love is your soulmate those letters will fade away. Your papa and I were soulmates. As were your parents.”

He was laying his head down on her lap at the time. Just staring at the wall and listening to her calming voice. He remembered the day he got his initials. “E.M.” It said.

With his mind coming back from being trapped in that memory he found himself in the break room. Robin probably walked him there. He checked the time and it was now 1:36. Nancy came in to talk to him. She could tell he was having a rough time.

“Hey. If you need to you can go home. We’re overstaffed today anyway.” She said putting her hand on his shoulder.

Steve looked up at her with tears forming in his eyes. Refusing to let them slip out he blinked a few times. “Could I? I dunno why I’m taking this so hard” that was a lie. He very much knows why. He just doesn’t have the strength to say it.

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow” she said and walked out of the room.

Steve grabbed his coat, keys, phone and bag and walked out the door. He unlocked his car and started to drive. As he stopped at the first intersection he saw a group of men walking across the crosswalk. All wearing either leather jackets or jean jackets. They thanked him for stopping and he waved back.

He heard screaming behind him. Turned to look in his rearview mirror. A large black truck was speeding down the road, sirens following it. The truck got up to the intersection and hit someone.

Steve rushed out of his car and ran to the man’s aid. “Sir are you okay. I’m a nurse I can help a bit until we get you to the hospital” the man below him nodded and people stared. A few people were blocking more cars from coming into the intersection.

“What’s your name? I need to know your name.” Steve asked. Hoping the hospital had the man’s records.

His voice was soft coming out. Probably due to the wind being knocked out of him. “E-Eddie Mun-Munson” and then he passed out.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hiii! I’m back after a looonnng time! I hope y’all are well! this is the first part to a series I’m doing! Can’t go wrong with a steddie soulmate au!

I hope y’all liked this first chapter! And as always constructive criticism and advice on writing is always appreciated!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steddie #stranger things #eddie #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stevexeddie #modern stranger things #steve #steddie stranger things #rockstar eddie munson #nurse Steve Harrington

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saltygilmores · 4 months

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THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP6: TAKE THE DEVILED EGGS (Pt 2) (This One's Gonna Be a Real Rage Inducer) (Lots Of Interesting Development Though) (So many things happening) (Salty Rambles about Jess Mariano's Birthday)

There is something to be said about Luke (on multiple occasions) readily admitting he pays Jess in ketchup packets to toil in the Coffee Mines more or less against his will. I get that it's just a part time job after school...before school..while he's cutting school..always working...never stopping...never reicieving any tips from Lorelai and Rory... Rory needs a job... Rory and Lorelai need to pay for their food... Anyway these comments shed a light on the shaky economies of small businesses in small towns which is interesting to me. Gilmore Girls is really, at it's core, a show about class. One day he could wake up to find his diner has been turned into a Dunkin Donuts (this is Not-Quite-But-Almost-New England after all, where DD is king).

Hahahahaha!! Jess stole money to buy a car and he committs attempted murder! Hahahahaaha! You're SO FUNNY LORELAI GILMORE. Your daughter stole a boat.

Yeah. And maybe back home, he did had to steal to survive sometimes. How about them apples, Lorelai Gilmore. God, do I loathe her.

Don't say that around Lorelai, I think she'd believe you were being serious.

A couple of the moots and I recently decided that in the recent past, Liz managed to land and then lose a halfway decent boyfriend/ father figure to Jess who had a car and taught Jess to drive and do repairs and some other light adulting. I honestly feel like this is the only thing that makes sense.

HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN THIS SCENE!!! Fuck meeee. Look at that li'l curl...

LOOK AT IT!!!! You know what, I'm calling it. I'm putting my foot down. This is the hottest Milo had ever looked in the entirety of seasons 2 and 3. It's that perfectly gelled hair, the jean jacket, the cool tshirt. Very James Dean. Woof. Let's see, what would I choose for second place? I have to go with the party scene in KegMax, another episode with impeccably jelled hair and a jean jacket (and even while he was apparently sick shooting that episode too). He just progresses in hotness the further season 3 marches on.

These four words "I'm still a minor" are a point of contention for me in the ongoing debate about his birth month. My beliefs: Jess is a Virgo. He was born in August or early September. This would make him just older than Rory by just a smidge. Since well over a year has passed in the show since the episode he arrived in Stars Hollow as a 17 year old (when he arrived, it was early September as Rory had just started school in that episode), he had just celebrated his birthday before arriving and so he has to have already turned 18 by this episode. However, I will consider the theory that Luke was clueless or misinformed about his age at the time he arrived (because it's not like LIz is in any way reliable with information) and he was actually 16 going on 17 when he hopped off the bus last year, and maybe he has an October or November birthday making him slightly younger than Rory. It would make sense that both missed the kindergarten cut off dates in 1989 at their respective schools (which is rock solid canon already for Rory, as she was born in October 84 but graduated in 03 instead of 02), putting them in the same grade.

Salty has put a pathetic amount of thought into this. So, how can I accept this statemen? I attribute it to the same brand of biting sarcasm that gave us "I mugged an old lady" moments ago and also because this scene doesn't make a whole lot of sense to begin with. He's still a minor, but he got his own insurance all by himself under his own name, which is not really a thing, but not his own car registration? Committing insurance fraud perhaps? Sketchy insurance company that didn't ask too many questions? He knows a guy who knows a guy who can print up some fake documents? At that point why not go all the way with the white collar crimes and forge Luke's signature on the registration too? See, Lorelai thinks Jess is a thief and murderer when he's really a white collar criminal like Taylor Doose.

My memory was certain that he produced a cigarrette and not a pen in this scene. I had to edit this post to remove a line about him smoking. I guess I confused it with the Then She Appears/ Cmurrh kissing scene, where he's also wearing a jean jacket with a popped collar. Damn. I can't wait for that scene...

Just some light fraud. If the car belonged to someone in Stars Hollow, whoever's registration he stole probably deserved it anyway. This is how I approach all "Crimes" Jess commits in Stars Hollow. There are only a few people who don't deserve it. Your honor, my client is innocent.

Oh no, the couch of doom. No good conversations ever happens between Rory and Lorelai on the couch, especially after one of them comes home at night and finds the other one on the couch. The Gilmores recieve an invitation to Sherry's baby shower. The moots and I have determined that Doula and Gigi will eventually band together to form the most powerful duo of neglected half sisters the world has ever seen. For the record, today Doula would be 17 and Gigi would be 21. Since Jess eventually comes to adopt and raises Doula she has a somewhat decent chance of coming out a well adjusted adult. At the very least, if she was stuck with TJ and Liz, Jess would still be a positive influence on her life, visit her and look out for her and make sure she didn't get sucked into any cults. The odds are a lot more grim for Gigi with Crusty and Sherry as her forever "parents" and let's face it, very likely her relationship with big sister Rory or any of the other Gilmores is non existent.

And things were so peaceful. Especially since Dean hasn't reared his ugly head in the last two episodes, either.

You flip flop with Crusty so much how can anyone possibly keep track of whether you're on the outs with him or banging him at any given time?

And by saying that out loud you're gonna tip the balance of the universe and he's going to show up. I looked ahead and although this is sadly still a Crusty-Focused episode, he doesn't actually make an appearance. Small blessings. To Lorelai's surprise, Rory admits that she's been in contact with Crusty and Lorelai is okay with it but upset that Rory was hiding it from her. God, he's such a parasite.

Emails. How quaint.

Highly debatable.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #TDDE #Take the Deviled Eggs #Rory Gilmore #Lorelai Gilmore #Jess Mariano #Luke Danes #Milo Ventimiglia

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ketchhhaglendadelle · 28 days

Text

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creoterative · 10 months

Text

It's been 84 years....

Okay, no, it hasn't, but I'm still late xD Well, the pool where I'm working at just shut down for a while, we had a... big problem with the pipes and yeah, I got some days off until they fixed it, perfect.

So let's go, the Four Horsemen of the Legion for Fighting Miramons, and Li Ling's idiocy!

Headcanons on how the four commanders would react to ships involving them (thanks for the request @elsaedelweiss !)

Little Disclaimer: This is based on the Lore Info I got on them, sadly I don't have any of these four Espers and have battle experience with them, but I hope that isn't a problem xD

Gabrielle (Njord)

She is a direct and honest person, so I don't think she'd even try to surpress any emotions here.

And emotional it'll get.

When she was told, that people are shipping here with different colleagues, she was confused, then in denial, then she nervously laughed.

The thought of her being shipped with other people seems to be very unrealistic to her since she isn't exactly the romantic type. But eventually, after some nights of sleep about it, she finds the thought of her being shipped quite funny.

So now Gabrielle is running around, randomly leaning over to a person, saying "Ey. You know, people are shipping us. Come on, let's do the fans a favor." . And then she revels in them getting flustered.

Falken (Horus)

He doesn't even know what shipping is, so the situation gets quite... strange.

After explaining to Falken what shipping means, his face slowly turns into a disturbed frown, the "What-the-Fuck"-brow is raised as well.

And after that, he's not seen again for a longer time.

Where did he wander off to? Well, with him being... a curious little birdie, he decided to look up some of the ships.

After that, he didn't touch a phone for a month or so, only responding to very very very important calls from Raven or so.

He was quite terrified, but only because, well, he managed to find the... dirty side of fandoms first. Which was a grave mistake.

Maybe he'll come around and get more interested in the Fluff Stuff, but the more explicit things? Hell no, he'll burn his phone.

Donar (Thor)

Oh he loves shipping.

This man needs praise and he gets pretty excited by the role many ships tend to give him.

Much like Gabrielle, he enjoys it in the end and finds the sheer thought of crazy or cozy stories written about him (and others) quite thrilling.

His arrogance may kick in from time to time, even to the point that he might go to the significant other in the story and tell them about it. And he's brutally honest about it. Every little detail.

Eventually, they get so annoyed, Li Ling and Tang Xuan as well as Q bann him from any social media platform they can find. Mostly because he takes up all the space in conversations, not particularly because they despise shipping.

Lin Xiao (White Tiger)

She's a bit hesitant at first, not sure what to expect when people tell her about certain 'ships'.

But after learning more about them, she has numerous reactions, that threaten to tear down half of the Union Headquarters.

She freaks out, then gets very confused, after that she's a flustered mess with burning cheeks and after THAT, Gabrielle takes her under her wing and explains to her, that it's just fiction and people's imagination, so she doesn't have to be worried.

Does that help?

No.

But after a while, Lin Xiao becomes a bit more... accustomed to the existence of fanfiction and fanart and after that settles in, she finds her old corage again.

And then? She teams up with Gabrielle, starting to harrass everyone and everything with funny jokes about ships and love interests in general.

Well, until Raven tells everyone to shut the fuck up and behave.

Whew, that was fun! Sorry I'm so late though, a few things happened during the weekend and I literally didn't have any time to do some research and think about what they'd do if they found out about shipping, so.... Yes, I am very sorry.

I hope it is what you imagined and if you have any other requests, I'll do my best to answer them!

Thanks for the question, again, and have a nice day y'all!

#dislyte falken #dislyte donar #dislyte lin xiao #dislyte gabrielle #dislyte raven #dislyte tang xuan #dislyte li ling #dislyte headcanons #dislyte #dislyte q

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fxdltc88 · 7 months

Text

James Vernor was a junior clerk at Higby and Sterns’ Drug Store in Detroit when he enlisted in the 4th Michigan Cavalry and was called to fight in the Civil War. At the time (according to company lore), he was experimenting with a stomach calming tonic of vanilla, spices and ginger, which he left behind in an oak cask. When Vernor returned four years later, he found that his elixir had transformed into a zesty, sweet, gingery drink complimented by the wood’s aging process. Soon after, Vernor opened his own pharmacy 235 Woodward Avenue, and its soda fountain became the first – and only! – place in the world to buy Vernor’s ginger ale in 1866.

Vernor was admired as a pharmacist. He closely scrutinized his prescriptions for quality, accuracy, and possible drug interactions. Vernor was meticulous about his work. Everything he did needed to meet his high standards. He served on the State Board of Pharmacy for eight years and was one of the driving forces to pass the state's first pharmacy law. He held Michigan's pharmacy license #1 all the years he practiced.

Like all good pharmacists, Vernor also had a soda fountain in his drug store.

As demand grew, Vernor began to sell his product to other Detroit soda fountains, but required that vendors purchase special equipment to serve the soda in order to ensure its quality. After gaining enough fame, Vernor was able to sell his soda throughout the Midwest. In 1896, he closed his pharmacy and opened a bottling plant at the foot of Woodward so that Vernors could be mass produced.

James Vernor passed away at the age of 84 in 1927. The Vernor family was once asked when the first Mr. Vernor retired from business. The answer was, "A few hours before he died." He was a hard-working and energetic man. One that made his mark on the city of Detroit with both business and civic contributions.

The second James Vernor came into the business as early as he could, working alongside his father in the old drug store. In the beginning, the father and son team were the only employees. They often worked 16 hour days together washing bottles, making and bottling the ginger ale, delivering it to various sites in the city, and taking care of clerical duties. He was born in Detroit on March 25, 1877. It wasn't until his father died in 1927, though, that he became President of the James Vernor Company. It was in a great way due to the second James Vernor's influence and style that the company grew into an international organization. In 1896, James Vernor II entered the business and his father decided to concentrate full time on ginger ale.

The same standards that had been applied to the consistency of his prescriptions were applied to the consistency of Vernor's Ginger Ale. The water had to be specially purified. The blending needed the finest Jamaican Ginger distilled in the absolute proper proportion with other fruit juices. Even the carbonic gas used was produced by Vernor so it would meet their requirements.

In 1896, James Vernor II entered the business and his father decided to concentrate full time on ginger ale.

The drug store was closed in 1896 and a small plant established at the foot of Woodward Avenue, several blocks from his former drug store's location. The plant was devoted to the blending, aging, and bottling of Vernor's Ginger Ale.

In 1918, Vernor purchased the old Riverside Power Plant. In 1919 a six story main building was erected adjacent to the other two. In 1939, the 10-story Siegel building was purchased and renovated. In 1941, the "most modern bottling facility in the world" was completed at 239 Woodward Avenue.

The plant also had a spectacular soda fountain. Everyone who lived in Detroit in the 1940's and 1950's has a story about going to the Vernor's soda fountain, usually before or after a ride on the Bob-lo Boat. One of the favorite drinks to have was a Boston Cooler. The drink is a milkshake-like mixture of Vernor's and vanilla ice cream. Contrary to many incorrect web sites, the Boston Cooler is not named after Boston Boulevard in Detroit. At that period of time, any soda pop mixed with ice cream was called a Boston Cooler. So, you could have a Hire's Boston Cooler or a Vernor's Boston Cooler. Vernor's copyrighted the name in the late 1960’s.

James Vernor II had a son; another James Vernor. James Vernor III also had a son; James Vernor. Yet, the company did not pass on to either one of them. It is impossible to predict if the company would have remained in the family if either had been president. J. Vernor Davis, the grandson of the founder, took over the presidency of the company.

The James Vernor Company had always been a family owned company. The death of James Vernor II in 1954 forced the company to sell some stock to the public. In 1957, James Vernor III died. His majority ownership of Vernor’s went through a court battle and was ultimately sold to investors. As a result, Vernor’s was no longer in the hands of the founding family. Vernor's became Vernors in 1959. (Note the lack of the apostrophe between the 'r' and the 's'.)

Vernor Davis had been with the firm since 1931. Prior to the death of his uncle, he became president of the company, in 1952. James Vernor III was concurrently named vice president. Under Davis' leadership, company sales grew tremendously. A stockholder's annual report from 1963 indicates sales grew from just over $6,000,000 in 1961 to over $9,000,000 in 1963.

In 1966, the one hundredth birthday of the James Vernor Company, Davis became chairman of the board. That same year, Vernors was sold to another group of investors, members of the New York Stock Exchange. The company would soon go through a number of different owners.

Again in 1971, Vernors was sold to American Consumer Products. By 1979, another company, United Brands, owned Vernors. This ownership would be the one most costly to the City of Detroit. In January of 1985, Cincinnati-based United Brands abruptly ended bottling operations at the plant.

The property was purchased in 1986 by Shula Associates, who had plans to knock it down for a shopping mall. The plant was eventually demolished in 1987. A high-rise apartment building for Wayne State University is now on the Cass Avenue side of the site. On the Woodward frontage, a four story apartment complex with first floor retail space has been built. The property is directly north of the Whitney Restaurant and two properties north of Hop Cat Detroit.

Just two years after abandoning Detroit, United Brands sold Vernors to A & W Brands. All of A & W was subsequently purchased by Dr. Pepper/Cadbury in 1993. In 1996, Dr. Pepper/Cadbury merged with 7UP and moved to Plano. Cadbury continued to own Vernor's until stock holders made the candy company give up the beverage firm. Dr Pepper Snapple was born! The company merged with Keurig and is now Keurig Dr Pepper. The company has been very supportive of the Vernor's brand.

#detroit #detroit michigan #soda #Vernor's #pharmacy

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Text

I’m still here - part iii - eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: moving on is easier said than done.

warnings: mostly angst lol dustin and steve and wayne make appearances, mentions of canon-typical violence, swearing, etc. no smut in this one!

a/n: yes we are veering from canon cuz the end of season four had basically everything going to shit in hawkins so I have tweaked/ignored a few things for the sake of story.

reblogged & comments always appreciated ♥️

| series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 |

Steve knows that he cares too much.

It’s just become apart of his personality, at this point. Forever the babysitter, forever giving too much of a damn to distance himself from the hell that is Hawkins. If you had told him three, four years ago that this is where he’d end up, the pseudo older brother to a bunch of rag-tag munchkins, weirdly friendly with his ex-girlfriend and ex-crush, and deeply mourning the loss of a guy he knew for all of zero-point-five seconds, hugging his sobbing girlfriend on her front lawn, he’d tell you to go shove it.

But, that’s where he is, and where he’s been since you fell.

He remembers you, vaguely. There were a few parties he’s sure you both attended, basketball games and pep rallies. He recognizes your face from the grad photos, the class of ‘84 plastered on the wall outside the gym. If he thinks hard enough, he’s pretty sure you’ve shared classes as far back as kindergarten, plunked together often enough that you could have been fast friends if either of you had made the effort, but never had the chance.

But Eddie died. Eddie died to give them more time. Eddie died to save the world. And now here’s Steve, trying his best to comfort you when he knows there’s no way to fix this, to make this better.

Eddie died.

You dropped as soon as the words were out of Steve’s mouth, tears pouring down your cheeks. The sobs you made were completely soundless, and something about it made Steve’s heart ache harder, like a scene out of an old movie, the volume sucked away so you could only see the actor’s raw emotion. He caught you easily, reflexes kicking in at the right moment for once, and felt your hands curl in the front of his pull-over as he sank down onto the grass with you, pulling you against his chest.

“I know,” he murmurs to you, rubbing an almost-awkward hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry.”

It was in passing, sure, Eddie’s remarks about you, but Steve noticed, could see the gleam in his eye, the excited tone in his voice whenever he mentioned you.

Walking through hell-Hawkins, trying to find a way back, talking about Nancy: “Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back. Because that was an unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

A sputtered laugh. “That I do. Best thing that ever happened to me, I can tell you that.”

When they had unravelled everything, Nancy announcing they needed to go back into the Upside Down: “No. No, absolutely not. Nope. No. I am not going back in there, Harrington. The only place I am going is straight to Chicago to get my girl, and then I am getting as far away from Hawkins as physically possible.”

In the midst of hot-wiring the stolen Winnebago: “Now, I swore to myself I wouldn’t wind up like he did, and I had my foot in the right direction, almost, until five days ago. In love with a pretty girl, army-crawling my way towards graduation. Y’know, I’m gonna go to Chicago with her? Do whatever I can to make her happy, all that sappy shit from the movies. I got big plans, Harrington, let me tell you. But now, I’m wanted for murder, and soon, grand theft auto. So, uh, I’m really living up to that Munson name. At least my girl still loves me.”

When Dustin had told them Eddie was gone, Steve felt…hollow. He couldn’t explain it. He barely knew the guy, though he supposed saving the world and fighting like hell through the demonic-opposite version of their hometown created a bond of some sort between them all. Eddie was the rebel, the outcast, the freak, which Steve is loathe to admit he once agreed with. Knowing the insane witch-hunt most of Hawkins has embarked upon for the guy, it makes his stomach turn.

It’s strange, but seeing you, watching you take it in, it makes him miss Eddie more. He was a good guy, there was no questioning that, and Steve wishes he’d taken the time to get to know him more.

He can’t do that, but he can do this. You both just sit there for a while, Steve starting to rock side-to-side at one point or another, his brow furrowed as you cry into his collar. He can’t fix this. He can’t make this better. But he can be there for you, on possibly the worst day of you life, try to comfort you when he’s just delivered the worst possible news.

“He really loved you,” he tells you.

You hiccup, finally lifting your head and wiping at your face. Your eyes are bloodshot now, lashes clumped together with tears. “I really loved him.”

“I have something for you, actually,” Steve says, not making a move to get up but pointing to his car parked at the curb, “and I think Dustin would really like to see you.”

You nod, chin bobbing with the movement, wiping a fresh tear from your cheek. “Okay.”

Slowly, Steve helps you to your feet, and you walk together towards the curb, you with your arms tucked against your chest, Steve toying with his hands. He pops the trunk and you wait on the pavement, knee bouncing with nerves as he retrieves the vest.

“I washed it,” he tells you, holding the denim towards you. You snatch it instantly, your eyes drifting shut as you crush it to your chest. “It was kind of…well, it’s a long story.”

“I want to know,” you say, and the strength in your voice surprises Steve. “I want to know what really happened. How he died. I want to know everything.”

Steve just stares at you a moment before closing the trunk. “It’s…a lot. You might wish the opposite if we tell you.”

You shake your head, fingers toying with the collar of Eddie’s vest. “I don’t care. I want to know. I need to, Steve. Please.”

“Okay,” he says, reaching out and putting a hand on your arm. “Let’s go.”

You just stare at Dustin.

He stares back.

“You’re lying.”

“Wish that I was,” the kid says, spreading his hands wide. His eyes are still a little shiny; he’d burst into tears when you and Steve had arrived at the Wheeler’s house. It was weird at first, all these faces you only knew in passing staring back at you.

Nancy you had probably spoken to the most, both of you working on the school paper at one time or another, and when you walked into her house, she squeezed your hand and mouthed I’m sorry. Robin introduced herself with an awkward flourish, giving your shoulder a light tap with her fist before sinking back behind Steve. Mike Wheeler you’d met at Hellfire, and he looked as solemn as Dustin, a girl with short hair you didn’t recognize standing behind him. Lucas was at the hospital with Max, another member of the group who Steve told you had also been injured in the…whatever it was that had happened, and Lucas was by her side twenty-four seven.

You’d shrugged into the vest the moment you stepped out of Steve’s car. It felt right, somehow, to be wearing it, the denim soft against your skin. It smelled mostly of laundry detergent, but if you inhaled deep enough, you could swear Eddie’s scent was still lingering in the fabric, proof that it had once been his.

Dustin had been hanging at the back of the group when you walked in, the last to greet you as Steve introduced you formally to those who didn’t already know you. He was sitting at the dining table, face pushed into his hand, foot tapping nervously.

The room had fallen silent as you walked over to him, realizing as you got closer what was sitting on the table before him.

A length of chain and a guitar pick. Eddie’s.

“Hey kid,” you said quietly, and his head had snapped up, eyes going wide as he realized you were standing right in front of him. He was on his feet in an instant, arms around your middle, hands fisted in the back of the vest.

He’d babbled into your front for a while. I’m so sorry I tried to save him he bought us time he saved my life he saved everyone’s life I can’t believe he’s gone I’m sorry he’s a hero he’s my hero he didn’t run away he helped save the world.

“It’s okay,” your murmured, hugging him back tightly. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, but the sentiment remained.

Once Dustin had calmed enough to get a coherent sentence out, they sat you down, and they told you everything. Steve’s warning echoed through your mind as they explained, but you needed to know. You needed to know what Eddie died for, and, as Dustin and Mike and the girl, El, talked, you learned exactly what. Exactly what he’d done, exactly how he died, exactly how important everything he did was.

Dustin starts to cry again when he tells you the last thing Eddie said.

Tell her, okay? Tell her what I did. Tell her how much I loved her. I loved her so much, man.

You hugged Dustin again when the tears came harder, and Steve met your eyes, his brow hard, nodding once. “He loved you guys too,” you tell them, reaching over and squeezing Mike’s hand. “I know he did.”

Your parents take off for your grandparents the next day. You outright refuse to go, standing by the fact that you are a grown-ass woman and you do not legally have to listen to them and your friends need you. Your mother looks like she could fall over and your father just flares his nostrils before getting in the car. It’s rough, from all sides, but you don’t know what else to do. You can’t leave. Not yet. Not like this.

It takes a few days, a lot of encouragement from Steve and Robin (who you’re already strangely attached to), but you finally pluck up the courage to drive over to the trailer park to see Eddie’s uncle.

The park is a mess, toppled trees and power lines, the metal fences cleaved in half in some places. A few of the motorhomes have been relocated to other parts of the park, and everything just looks off. One of the permanent trailers has a large oak sticking through it’s roof, another is missing the glass from all its windows. There’s a string of caution tape hanging limply off one of the fence posts outside the Munson trailer. Eddie’s van is still parked out front.

It’s late afternoon, the sun just starting to dip in the sky, and you walk slowly towards the front door, lifting your hand to knock.

“Eddie’s not here,” a familiar voice calls, and you turn to see Wayne Munson sticking his head out of the van, his face an unreadable mask. “Wondered when I’d see you around.” He slides the door of the van open all the way, sinking onto the floor and letting his feet touch the grass. “Haven’t seen him more than two weeks now. S’not like him. And now, with all this,” he gestures to the trailer, to the destruction marring the trailer park, “I ain’t never been this worried in my life.”

Dustin had explained what had happened at the trailer, that Chrissy Cunningham’s death had created one of four gates that had helped cause the bigger rift (earthquake) that had ripped through Hawkins. He and Eddie had gone through the gate to distract the bats, the demons that had ultimately killed Eddie, and the gate was still open. It explained Wayne being in the van instead of the trailer.

You can feel the tears crawling back up your throat as you walk towards Wayne. You’re still wearing the vest — you haven’t taken it off since Steve gave it to you — and you have the guitar pick necklace in your pocket, burning a hole with every step. Wayne had never been around much when you were still living in Hawkins, most of your nights at the trailer spent with just Eddie, and the mornings hushed and whispered since Wayne worked the nightshift and slept most of the day. Eddie was always respectful, careful not to make any noise when you got up in the morning.

Wayne was a nice man, if a little rough around the edges. From the few conversations you’d had with him, you knew his heart was in the right place, that he’d done the best he could taking Eddie in after everything happened with his parents, and he loved him like he was his own son.

It breaks your heart to have to tell him this.

He cries. He cries, and you cry, and you cry together, Wayne surprising you with a bone-crushing hug. You give him the easier version, well-rehearsed with Steve and Dustin, the version of the story that doesn’t let slip any more details than necessary. That Eddie saved someone’s life after the earthquake happened, but had lost his own in the process.

“Kid was always too selfless for his own good,” Wayne grumbles, his voice thick, shaking his head. “Goddamn it, Eddie.” He pats your hand. “Y’can go inside if you want. His stuff’s all there in his room. Just…watch out in the living room, I suppose.”

“Thanks, Wayne.”

He just nods.

You nearly stumble back through the door when you walk in, the gate on the ceiling more terrifying than what you’d expected. It’s not moving, like Dustin had described it, but black…vines slither outward, dark tendrils marring the white ceiling. The middle is open, an eerie red light pulsing back at you. What the fuck.

Side-stepping the living room as quickly as you can, you dart for Eddie’s bedroom, the path in the well-worn carpet leading you straight there. As soon as you’re in, you shut the door behind you, leaning your forehead against the Iron Maiden poster taped to the back of the door.

It’s a few moments before you can open your eyes, turn and face the rest of the room. It’s so familiar to you, it all is, but it doesn’t feel right without Eddie with you. Without the sloppy make-outs on his desk, the intense love-making in his bed, the endless music sessions, the books on his bedside table.

His D&D gear sits on the desk, a stack of books and papers and a pencil case, and you run your fingers over the books. There’s a battered copy of The Lord of the Rings sitting on the bed, the pages dog-eared so many times it’s hard to tell where he was in the book this time around. Milk crates full of records, cassette tapes, the vinyl of a Metallica album still on the record player.

You flip it on, setting the needle in place. The record starts to spin, guitar and drums spilling from the speakers beside the player. You walk towards his closet, hands reaching for whatever fabric you can find, pulling a hoodie with the Iron Maiden logo emblazoned on the front off the shelf, shrugging out of the vest so you can pull the hoodie on and then the vest back on top.

So close, no matter how far.

Couldn’t be much more from the heart.

Forever trusting who we are,

And nothing else matters.

Wayne is still sitting in the open van when you walk back outside, shutting the trailer door behind you. “Y’should get home, kid,” he tells you, “your parents are probably worried.”

“They left for my grandparents’ a few days ago,” you tell him, and he lifts a brow. “I couldn’t leave Hawkins. Not yet.”

He just looks at your for a long moment, and then nods.

“I’m staying with the Harrington’s this week, maybe the Buckley’s next week, but maybe I could come by sometime? For dinner or something?”

He actually cracks a smile; a sad one, but a smile all the same. “That’d be nice, kid.”

Once enough time has passed, they declare Eddie Munson’s cause of death as an accident related to the earthquake, and officially call off the manhunt for him. People are pissed, angry folks claiming the cops didn’t do enough, that “that Munson freak could still be on the run, killing people!” It makes you sick, the way they talk about him. You want to scream in every single one of their faces, but you know it’s no use.

The funeral is small, you and Wayne and the crew you now consider your closest friends, along with Eddie’s other pals from Corroded Coffin and Hellfire. Every single one of them — including you and Wayne — shows up wearing the Hellfire t-shirt under suit jackets or over dresses. You wear yours tucked into a black skirt, one of Eddie’s flannels over top, along with the vest. It feels right.

The headstone is dark, almost black, the words etched in grey.

Edward Munson, October 31st 1965-March 27th 1986, beloved friend, son, and soulmate.

It had been Dustin’s idea, the soulmate part. It made you cry.

Time goes on, the town returning to some semblance of normal, if you can even call it that. Everyone is still balanced on a razor’s edge, tiptoeing around each other. You call your parents regularly, once it’s safe to come back to Hawkins, but they refuse. It’s only a month until the house is put up for sale and bought by a family who lost their home in the quake. Part of you wonders if it’s your parents way of punishing you for refusing to leave, but you’re too wrapped in your grief to really care.

You defer your final exams and your third year at the university. You spend weeks couch surfing between the Wheeler’s and the Harrington’s and the Buckley’s and even the Henderson’s, before Wayne tells you to move into Eddie’s room. The gate is still there in the trailer, ominous as ever, but Wayne puts up a few pieces of plywood to block it from view, and you use the back door to get in and out of the trailer instead.

It’s nice, in a weird, awful way. You spend a lot of time with Robin and Steve and Dustin, happy to be around people who understand, who are still trying to get you to understand everything, but are patient and kind and good.

You spend a lot of time at the cemetery as well. Most days, when you’re not working at the Family Video or the gas station by the trailer park, you sit there in front of his headstone for hours. You bring a book or your Walkman and just sit, leaned against the stone, listening to his tapes or reading Lord of the Rings. You talk to him a lot too, about everything happening with your parents, with school, how great the friends you inherited from him are.

Today is a rough day. Summer’s getting closer, and any normal year, you’d be on your way home from Chicago around now. Eddie would be waiting on your front porch or come sprinting out of the trailer when you pulled down the gravel road, scooping you into his arms and kissing you hard. You’d have the whole summer to spend together, getting up to no good and spending far too much (not enough) time naked in his bed.

God fucking damn it, you miss him.

“Why’d you have to go?” you ask the stone, fingers plucking at the grass beneath you. “Why’d you have to leave me here all alone, huh? Why’d you have to go and be the hero?”

The wind whistles through the trees, sifting your hair off the back of your neck, and you can feel goosebumps rise on your skin. Something in the air changes, the temperature plummeting all of a sudden, and your stomach is in knots. Clouds roll in overhead and you squint at the sky, reaching for your bag and getting to your feet. Reaching out, you run your hand over the top of the headstone, the curves and ridges.

“Goodnight, Eds.”

“Goodnight, already? I just got here.” You whirl, bag falling out of your now-slack grip. You didn’t hear his approach, and staring at him, you’re half-convinced you’re losing your mind.

Eddie.

You just stare, open mouthed, as he walks towards you, that familiar saunter to his step as he closes the distance between you and him. There’s something…different, but you can’t put your finger on it, and you’re ninety-nine percent sure you’re going into shock, that this is some kind of vivid hallucination and you’re going to wake up any minute.

There’s a scar on his neck, you realize as he gets closer, the skin red and pink and cutting down towards one of his tattoos. He lifts a hand slowly to your cheek, and you can see more scars on his hand and arm, right in the web between his index finger and thumb, across the thin skin of his wrist.

His palm is cool against your cheek, but solid and there, thumb swiping over your skin. This isn’t a dream. Or the weed you smoked last night in the trailer was much more than you bargained for.

Eddie grins, revealing those pearly white teeth and…fangs, long and pointed canines, dipping down over his bottom teeth, perfect and sharp.

What the actual fuck.

You just stare, jaw dropping open, eyes brimming with tears. He’s here. He’s actually here. Is this actually happening? This can’t be a hallucination. You can feel him.

A single tear drips down your cheek and Eddie wipes it away, the grin splintering slightly, his own eyes going shiny. “Hi, baby,” he says, voice soft as anything. “Sorry I’m late.”

—————

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