#eddie is perceptive

[loveinhawkins]

“Why are you whistling?” Eddie asks after he’s heard Steve do it for the fourth time.

“Huh?”

Eddie imitates him; it’s not like Steve is just casually following a tune in his head—it sounds deliberate. Encouraging whistles, one right after the other, in groups of three. Like a… like a call to something.

“Oh.” Steve chuckles slightly, gestures vaguely to the trees around them—to the evening fog that’s settling in, clinging to the branches. They’ll be nearing Lover’s Lake soon, surely. “Guess ‘cause of, uh… it’s just… a habit.” He smiles as if to himself. “In case of… dogs. So they come to me first.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Dogs. Right. Do I need a translator around you all?”

Steve’s smile grows. “Maybe. Not gonna spill all our secrets just like that, Munson. Gotta respect, um…” He clicks his fingers. “Narrative tension.”

Eddie snorts. “Fine. I’ll get the full story outta you yet, Harrington. Just you wait.”

“Mm-hmm. It’s a good one.”

“Why?”

Steve shrugs, but Eddie follows where his eyes linger: Lucas, Max. Dustin.

“Uh, I guess… it wasn’t really the beginning of… everything. But, um, it kinda was one. A beginning, I mean—for me, anyway.” He huffs, seems to hear himself. “Sorry. That was cryptic as hell and I wasn’t even… Hey, man, lemme know if you find a translator, think I need one for me, too.”

Eddie smiles. “Sure.”

But even as they’re walking towards uncertainty, even though Eddie knows there’s so many little stories he’s missing, all tangled up in the big one…

He finds that he can understand a lot about Steve without needing words.

There’s a tautness to his body as he walks, like even when seemingly relaxed, he’s always ready to run. Like there’s an unbreakable string pulling right from the centre of him, and Eddie already knows that it’ll lead straight to the kids.

Three whistles in the dark.

So they come to me first.

Eddie’s growing certain that this story in its entirety won’t exactly put his mind at ease. But for some reason, as they walk side-by-side, his heartbeat slows, like he’s finally calm enough to feel something other than fear.

Something close to fondness.

Maybe.

I don’t need a translator, Steve Harrington. Turns out I can read you pretty damn well.

#another hike from skull rock to lover’s lake missing scene #s2 steve has a special place in my heart ❤️ oh the implications of the junkyard scene & the tunnels scene #pre steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie #steve and the party #eddie is perceptive #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[orjustori]

i love when artists explicitly write/draw eddie and steve with very noticeable, maybe even deforming scars. i love when they dont fail to mention the repercussions the things they've been through have left on their bodies. because yes, we talk a lot about ptsd and horrible nightmares and all the psychoemotional issues, but we should totally talk more about the physical side of it.

eddie with a scar on his jaw that tugs when he smiles and aches after a long effusive rant. having to use mobility aides like a crutch or a walking stick because the muscles on his leg never fully recovered and the scars on his abdomen hurt if he tries to tighten his core too hard.

steve with awful migranes and early onset hearing loss and complex vision problems and slight trouble breathing because his head/face got fucked up one too many times. the scars on his back that got infected because no one gave them notice, that are now scars that twinge when he moves his arms and hurt after a day of running around with the kids. the scars on his abdomen that restrict his range of motion. that raspiness in his voice that never went away after a bat tried to crush his windpipe.

i don't know where i'm going with this i just... we constantly recognize their heroic deeds, but i think it's also important to remember that they are not heroes. they are just teenagers who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. they were doomed by the narrative, literally cannon fodder, and their bodies tell the history of that, and of how they're still here despite it all.

#and before you come for me I KNOW EDDIE IS DEAD #i Know #same as i know that canon will probably never give any character actual sequelae despite getting injured so many times #but i am talking about fanon and fandom perception here #where eddie is miraculously not dead and steve is more than a plot device #steddie

[cowgirleddiediaz]

can’t believe we have people arguing against fans showing support to a canon queer couple because they think that’ll somehow prevent a ship that has always been an absolute one-in-a-million long shot from happening.

if people bitching and moaning about bucktommy does influence the show enough to break them up, that doesn’t guarantee buddie.

#fandoms perception of how tv is made is so fucking strange #911 abc #911 spoilers #bucktommy #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz

[very-feral-lesbian]

ever since maya and natalie have been talking about leaning into ronance & joseph quinn has been saying a lot of things about how he changed eddie’s characters from the original creation done by the duffer brothers (his rings, being more friendly than mean, his queerness), i’ve been thinking a lot more about the way that fandom perceives writers opinions v actors' acting choices.

i think that fans tend to value the opinions of writers more than actors because we have been taught by some fandoms *cough cough* that actors' decisions are unimportant. when in reality, i think characters' personalities heavily come from the way the actor plays them and perceives them. this is very evident in joe and maya discussing the bathroom scene in s3 and joseph creating eddie's image.

no way in hell the duffer brothers intended for eddie to be a queer character. they have shown time and time again they don’t care about queer characters, let alone enough to make them well-written queer characters. however, joseph has stated that he intentionally played up eddie's attraction/flirtation to steve because he thought it fit his character.

i think in fandom we’re very easily dismissive of ourselves and our interpretations of media because we’ve been so harmed in the past by creators and writers of shows. i think a lot more emphasis needs to be placed on the way that actors interpret characters, because generally they are the ones that know the best since they play them.

this was long and rambly but heavily inspired by @wastedonyoursmile 's post about the duffers & queerbaiting.

#writers are important #but an actors impact is extremely important in the perception of the character #stranger things spoilers #stranger things series #st4 volume 2 #joseph quinn #natalie dyer #maya hawke #joe keery #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #steddie #ronance #queer eddie munson #text post

[hirakiyois]

ali telling buck he's like a perpetual roommate in his own home -> never seeing buck truly comfortable in his home unless he's with someone else -> buck saying he's not really a guest in eddie's home -> implied buck being semi-alone in eddie's house when he was looking after chris, on multiple occassions -> im sure you've heard of the couch theory -> buck's loft is absolutely DEMOLISHED for s6 finale

#buddie #911 #911 fox #911 abc too now ig #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hey gang here's how we can still win #christopher is about to have the weirdest perception of romantic love when he grows up

[penguins-umbrella]

i dont go here but thinking about how buck’s initial impression/relationship with tommy is meant to directly parallel his with eddie, and how buck didn’t even realize his feelings for tommy until he was literally slapped (or kissed ig) on the face with them, which really just means the only reason nothing ever happened between buck & eddie was literally just… eddie never made the move. all the pieces were there, the connection, the chemistry, the jealousy. but eddie at that time never even would’ve dared make a move. so here we have this other character, who’s just like eddie, same dynamics, same situation, everything.. only he knows his feelings, he knows bucks, & he goes for it. that’s all buck really needed, for the boy he liked to just kinda.. go for it, because lord knows he wouldn’t

#essentially what i’m saying is eddie cockblocked himself #i could make an entire essay on WHY i feel eddie would’ve never made the move but like #it’s been so long since i watched this show idk how much my perception of him then lines up w him now #idk anyways good on boys for kissing boys sometimes #911 abc #buddie

[staceymcgillicuddy]

perception check

My contribution to the "What-If" prompt from the lovely folks at @hellcheerweek ! Featuring an answer to the question "what if Eddie's father never went to prison, and he didn't stay in Hawkins long-term."

(If this seems familiar, it's a continuation of a prompt I wrote back in July, and it's the fic I've been calling college/townie in my wrap-ups.)

Rating: E  Pairing: Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham  Chapters: 1 so far Status: WIP Warnings: None that I can think of.

Synopsis: “Chris. Seriously. I hereby give you permission to have a one-night stand with the scuzzy bar boy.” 

“But—” 

“Trust me. Look at that guy. He’s not judging you—he’s an idiot.” 

Chrissy looks at Eddie, who has gone from staring at them to half-wrestling Gareth, the two of them grabbing each other around the middle and punching at kidneys. How that happened in the span of thirty seconds, she doesn’t know, but it certainly makes him more approachable.

Read it on AO3

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #edissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #hellcheer fanfic #fanfic #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer week #hellcheer week 2023 #perception check

[thehyperfixationspeedrunner]

Ah yes, the ocean saga (Buck's version)

Storm

Luck runs out

Keep your friends close

Ruthlessness

(Gif by @lover-of-mine )

#the last scene is of Eddie drowning #don't know if this was perceptible #thus is gonna get a total of three people #but I'm sure this three people will love this #9 1 1 #911 #911 abc #epic #epic the musical #epic the ocean saga

[cambria-writes]

happy holidays! this is arguably a little late but i’ve had a rough go of it these past few days so i only just finished this tonight lol. Ii insist that i’m not late because we’re still in 2022 and the new year hasn’t hit yet!

anyways this is just a relatively short fluffy feel-good thing because i wanted to feel warm and fuzzy. so it’s absolutely self-indulgent.

word count: 3,229 warnings: swearing, it’s christmas eve and that’s important so that should probably be a warning, no y/n, no mention of gender but ravenloft reader is AFAB, minor ravenloft spoilers if you squint

for reference, this scene (with a bonus crown) is what the reader would’ve drawn.

and for the record, since it was mentioned on ao3, i'm very well aware it shouldn't have been a perception check! ravenloft!reader was never written with the intention of making them a tabletop rpg wiz, they just know enough to get by and follow along if they're sitting in on a game.

𝕽𝖔𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

When the phone rang, you didn’t even greet the speaker. You immediately answered with ‘what do you want you fucking menace’ because there’s really only one person who’d call you near midnight like a heathen. 

“What’s your favourite colour?”

You snort and wedge the phone between your chin and shoulder and sit back down at your dining table to keep sketching. 

“Dunno. Like, all of them?”

“Dude that’s the epitome of unhelpful,” Eddie deadpans, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Right, well like, is there any context to this? Cause you should know I don’t have a favourite colour,” you reply, frowning and erasing a small portion before swiping the eraser shredding away. 

“Come on,” Eddie whines, and you can practically see him throwing his head back in annoyance. “Not even one? Like, something that just always makes you happy when you see it?”

You hum for a second and put your pencil down. “I guess maybe black? I—“

“Nah, nuh uh. Boring as hell.”

“Rude, what—“

“Black’s not even a colour, that’s what you constantly say!”

You scoff and pick your pencil back up, switching the phone to the other shoulder. 

“Did you seriously just call me in the middle of the night to bitch at me for not having a preferred perceptible wavelength of light?”

There’s an unusually long silence on the other end of the line. You frown again and pull the handset away and follow the coiled line. Confused but satisfied that it hadn’t somehow gotten unplugged from the cradle on the wall, you wedge it back where it was. 

“Ed? You good?”

“Yeah, no. Yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

“Jesus, don’t burn yourself out there bud.”

“Oh fuck off.”

The rest of the phone call is relatively short, and colours aren’t mentioned again by the time you hang up. You don’t go to bed until nearly two in the morning, and by then you’re content with having gotten down the main lines of your portrait. 

The snowstorm that rolled in on the 23rd was entirely unexpected but wholly welcomed. You were scheduled to work on the 24th, but with the state of the roads and the fact that nearly half of Hawkins was running off of generators, you were graciously allowed to stay home until the new year. And given that this is your first Christmas in your new home, you were more than happy to hunker down and, ha, weather it out. 

You’d had plans, sure; Harrington had already made sure everyone knew to show up at his place on the 24th, your parents had been expecting you on Christmas morning and the rest of the day would have been spent going around to see extended family. And though the thought of not being able to fulfill your annual Christmas traditions did dampen your mood, just thinking about the astronomical amount of energy you’d save made it a bit more palatable. 

If the same thing were to happen next year, though, you might cry. 

You’d already called Steve to let him know you were staying home. Pleasantly surprised, he’d admitted he’d had a whole speech prepared about how he’s have The Swarm tear you a new one if you even dared thinking about touching your car keys. (Which would have been an effective threat, honestly. You really had no interest in giving Dustin a reason to get uppity at you, and you definitely didn’t want to have to deal with Max’s ire. Girl held grudges like you did trauma.)

Your parents were only slightly less understanding, with your mother trying to insist that your father could come pick you up. A little resistance put that all to rest, though, and with a promise to call on Christmas morning, that was dealt with as well. 

You’d just settled down on your couch, swaddled in the fluffy blanket you’d gotten from Eddie the year before, mug of hot chocolate held in both hands for warmth, when the doorbell rang. Confused, you look at the time—just after dinner on Christmas Eve—and sigh before heaving yourself off the couch to buzzer by the door. You hesitate for a second before pressing the button to let the mysterious visitor in. You’re already on your way back to your couch, having assumed it was just a neighbour who’d locked themselves out again, when you hear heavy footsteps outside your door. 

You quietly walk back up and carefully lean forward to look through the peephole. 

“What the…” you mutter, leaning back, nearly jumping out of your skin when the knocking finally comes. You quickly unlatch the chain and unlock the deadbolt before pulling the door open. “Ed, what the fuck—“

“Merry Christmas,” Eddie blurts out, thrusting a box out at you, though it really sounded more like ‘murr cr’sms’. 

“Merry Christmas to you too but Jesus come inside!” You pull Eddie through the door by his arm, quickly shutting the door behind you and getting started patting the snow off of him. “The hell did you do, walk here? You look like a damn yeti!”

“Y-yeah I kind-kind of d-did.”

You pause in your patting before grabbing Eddie’s arm again and turning him around to face you. You ‘reabout to ask if he was serious, but a quick glance at his face—reddened cheeks and nose, frosted lashes, dry lips—tells you he has, in fact, told you the truth. 

“Fuck me, okay,” you whisper, before shaking your head and getting a move on. “Stay there and take your boots and coat off and then get your ass on that couch, I’m making you coffee.”

You don’t hear any complaints. And though normally you would’ve been glad for the silence, even perhaps proud to have shut him up, Eddie’s silence is, once again, unsettling. And this time you’re pretty sure it’s not because he’s thinking, and most likely because he’s borderline hypothermic.

You try to be quick; you grab that one pair of sweatpants Eddie leant you when you got splashed by a car outside of the arcade. That one metallica shirt you borrowed one time when one Friday movie night turned into an impromptu sleepover. You make your way back to the living room, where thankfully Eddie’s listened to you, and has made himself at home swaddled in the blanket you’d left on the couch. You throw a quick glance to the front door, where his jacket and boots are slowly leaving a growing puddle of snow water.

You definitely need to get a welcome mat or something if this is going to keep happening. 

Your first instinct is to chuck the clothes at Eddie’s head. What you would usually do. But it’s Christmas eve, there’s a god damn storm outside and this maniac walked to your place. For some reason. You feel like you owe him to be nicer than you usually would be. Call it the ghost of Christmas conscience. 

“Here,” you say quietly, holding out the sloppily folded shirt and sweats. “You can change in here. I’ll be in the kitchen.” 

Eddie mutters a very stuttery thanks and takes the clothes from you. You pause for a second to see what’s on the TV—seems like A Christmas Story is about halfway through—before hastily turning away when you see Ed starting to lift his shirt over his head.

Coffee, right. You said you’d make coffee.

You’re being so normal about this, it’s absolutely fine. You’re totally fine. 

By the time you return to the couch in the living room, Eddie’s clothes are exceptionally neatly folded on your coffee table and he’s even more huddled up in your blanket than he had been before. You place his mug of coffee in his waiting hands and have to bite back shocked laughter when, even outstretched, underneath the blanket, he looks like a frozen T-rex.

“Alright,” you huff out when you finally take your seat on the other end of the couch. “You wanna tell me what’s in that box that was so important that you felt you had to walk here in a storm?”

Eddie sputters in his coffee a bit. When he brings the mug back down, he does look a little sheepish.

“Yeah, y’know it sounds pretty stupid when you say it like that.”

You nod and take a sip of your own coffee. “M’hm. That’s cause risking hypothermia to deliver a gift that very well could’ve waited until the storm passed is pretty stupid. No offense.”

Despite your disclaimer and your attempt to sound light about it, Eddie lapses into silence, again. 

“Okay, you keep going quiet, is there something—“

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You stop yourself, mouth agape. You bring your coffee mug back up to your lips to try and shake off the surprise.

“I—okay. What, uh, what about Wayne?”

Eddie gestures vaguely under the blanket, and you assume he’s waving the issue of. “He’s with the Hendersons.”

“Oh. That’s…”

“Dustin asked me to go. I said no.”

You frown. “In favour of walking though the snow to get to me?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie starts, but he doesn’t continue until he takes another long sip from the coffee mug. “Walking wasn’t the plan. Van broke down halfway here.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh, leaning back into the arm of the couch and pulling your legs up and under you. “I literally thought you walked from your place!” 

“God, never,” Eddie laughs, pulling his own feet up on the couch to sit cross-legged. “But I was halfway here and there’s no power at the trailer, so.”

You hum and nod, but otherwise keep your silence. And you both stay like that for a few minutes. And while you’re taking the time to try and bring your BPM down to something a nurse might not scream about, Eddie seems to be appreciating the warmth that you’ve thrown at him.

“So,” you say after a while, clearing your throat and putting your mostly empty mug on the coffee table. “What’s in the box?” 

Eddie grins and puts his own mug down. The blanket falls away from his shoulders when he reaches toward to grab said box, and he turns it around in his hands before passing it over to you.

“Wait,” you rush to say, just as he opens his mouth. “Shit, wait, I have,” you trail off, and nearly jump over the back of the couch to run to your room. You quickly snatch the gift bag you’d left on your dresser and run back to the living room, nearly tripping over your own feet. You throw yourself back down onto the couch and shove the bag towards Eddie.

“What—“

“Gift for a gift,” you explain shortly, a little out of breath.

Eddie laughs lightly but takes the gift bag from you, and you eagerly snatch the box from his hands. You’re about to start tearing into the tacky Santa-print wrapping paper, but glance up to make sure it’s okay. Eddie chuckles and nods and motions for you to go ahead. 

You make quick work of the paper and nearly tear the top off the box before turning it over in your hand and letting its content drop into your palm.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, turning over the giant cut glass piece in your hand. You hold it up to the do lamplight, and it looks like it’s shimmering from the inside. Every which way you turn it, it’s like each facet is a different colour that reveals itself to you with each new angle. 

You don’t miss the fact that there are nineteen carefully carved and painted numbers on each face, and the last one has a little flame where the 20 normally would have been. 

You look up to thank Eddie, throat a little tight, but you nearly choke on your own tongue when you see his expression. 

He’s holding your gifted frame in his hands like it might break if he holds it too tightly. You can’t really understand the expression on his face, and the more time he spends staring unblinkingly at it, the more unsure you feel. 

“I, uh, is it… do you not like it?” 

Eddie slowly shakes his head before lifting his eyes up to you. He tries to start a few different sentences before clearing his throat. 

“Is this—this is really what you see?”

You let your hands fall into your lap and nervously turn the massive D20 around in them and nod. 

“Yeah, I mean. The crown might be a bit much,” you chuckle lightly, looking up and away towards the TV. “But yeah. You look really, uh. You look happy, when you’re DMing for the kids. Really cool. Thought you should be able to, I dunno. See it for yourself.”

When you do muster the courage to turn to look back to Eddie, he still has that absolutely confusing look on your face. You lift the heavy dice in one hand and wave it around a bit. 

“This is why you asked for my favourite colour, huh?” 

Eddie blinks a bit owlishly at first, but laughs and shakes his head. Slowly, carefully, he puts your gifted portrait on top of his folded clothes. Leans forward to pluck the dice from your hand and gently put it down on the coffee table next to your mug. 

“Ed, what’s wr—“

You inhale the rest of your question when Eddie reaches out a hand to grab and pull at one of your ankles. You screw your eyes shut when your head meets the couch cushion below your with a soft ‘thump’. And when you open your eyes, Eddie’s hovering over you, hands braced on the couch arm just above your head. You swallow thickly and promptly forget to breathe for a second. 

The end credit music for A Christmas Story feels like it’s playing from miles away.

“You good?” Eddie asks, quietly, and all you can do is nod. “You sure?”

“Yeah, uh huh. Fine,” you whisper, holding your hands close to your chest. Close your eyes when he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. “Why did you really come over?” You whisper, hesitantly uncurling a hand to place it on his chest.

“Missed you.”

“You see me almost every day.”

“Worried about you.”

You snort and lightly slap at his chest. “Bullshit. I own more knives than you do guitar picks.” 

Eddie exhales sharply before pulling back a bit. When you open your eyes, you almost want to hide from the tenderness you see in his. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, turning your head to the side to watch the TV turns from black to blue, now that the tape’s over. 

“Like what?” Eddie asks, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice when he nuzzles at your neck. 

You grunt. “Like, I don’t know. Like you—like…”

“Like you’re the only person I’d drive and walk through a snow storm to see?” 

You hum but keep your head resolutely turned away. Shiver when you can feel his lips ghosting against your cheek. 

“Like you’re in love with me,” you mutter quietly, screwing your eyes shut. 

Eddie slowly peels a hand away from the arm of the couch to turn your head to look at him. You still avert your eyes. He brushes the hair away from your face instead.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says, almost whines, tilting his head to try to catch your eyes. “You’re smarter than me, you’re not that dumb.”

You huff and cross your arms and finally look up at Eddie. There was some kind of combative quip on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as soon as the look on his face properly registers. 

“You’re not fucking around,” you say frowning. 

“I’m not fucking around.” Eddie sighs and moves up to kneel on the couch, both knees boxing in your legs. You move up on your elbows and scoot up a bit to lean your back against the arm of the couch. 

“Since when do you—“ 

“Dude, you literally saved me from a swarm of hell bats, somehow managed to team up with a super powered teenage girl to save the world, still don’t think I’m an absolute coward and show up at my doorstep if I call you when I can’t sleep,” Eddie lists off, starting to wave down at your a bit frantically. “And you actually listen to my shitty garage band music!”

“It’s not shitty!” 

“You’re proving my damn point, woman!” Ed shouts, swatting your hand away when you go to slap his chest again. “Merry fucking Christmas, I’m in love with you!” 

You let yourself slide back down to lie on the couch and laugh when you throw an arm over your face. 

“The fuck, this isn’t funny!” Eddie whines, trying to slap your arms away from your face. “This is serious!”

You choke your laughter down enough to say, “Roll for perception.” 

“Excuse me?” Eddie squawks, indignantly, pausing his assault on your arms. You lower them just enough to be able to peek at him. 

“You heard me, roll for perception.”

Eddie scoffs but turns to grab the massive dichroic dice from the table and gently rolls it along your carpeted floor. 

“Huh. 18. Do I get to add my wisdom modifier to that?” 

Though you bring your arms down from your face, you still cover it with your hands.

“You’re the only name and phone number I keep in my address book,” you start quietly, biting down on your lips before continuing. “That portrait of you isn’t the first one I’ve ever bothered trying to do. The photo of us Max took in the hospital is the only one I have framed. I hate cashews.”

“But you keep a tin of cashews in the cupboard on top of the f… fridge…” 

You nod and part your fingers to catch a glimpse of Eddie. He sighs before shouting and shaking his head. 

“Ed, what the—“

“Why are we so stupid complicated!” He shouts again, but it peters out into laughter. “Jesus, why can’t we just say shit like normal people?” 

“We hate normal people,” you deadpan, slowly letting your hands slide down your face. “So, uh,” you start, curling your fingers under your chin. “Merry, uh, Merry fucking Christmas, I lo—I love you too?”

Eddie closes his eyes and tilts his head back to sigh like you’ve just given him a glass of water after spending weeks in the desert.

You move to half sit up on your elbows again. 

“Hey, you—“

“Does this mean I can kiss you now and you’re not going to think I’m just doing it because it’s the holidays and there was mistletoe over your door?”

You blink for a second and pull yourself up on the arm of the couch and twist around to look at your door. Huh. Sure as shit, there it is.

“Oh. Mrs H must’ve put that up when she came over,” you say nervously, but when you turn around you’re shocked, both because of the still-freezing hand that comes up to your jaw and the lips that are pressed almost chastely against yours. 

“God bless Mrs H,” Eddie whispers, and your laughter is a quick huff before you loop your arms around his neck to pull him down against you for another kiss.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #holiday fic #christmas fi #fluff #no sad feelings here #mentions of el dustin and max #Minor ravenloft spoilers if you squint #ravenloft #Christmas #holidays #christmas eve #roll for perception

[nandermoenthusiast]

oh my god i got so emotional SHUT UUUUUP

#911 #911verse #evan buckley #so this is what crying about a character is actually like #like i do be crying at times dont get me wrong #but i just love buck so much. i kept stopping the episode and going. omg omg omg #omg its happening. omg idk if i can actually watch this. omg its happening !!!!!!!!!!! #jesus christ JESUS CHRIST #like i know we throw the word around a lot but this is MY SON #and everything that happened in the episode. it was like it was happening to me #i felt actual physical damage and actual butterflies as the kiss moment approached #like theY DID THAT #THEY MADE MY BI SON CANONICALLY BI #idk to have this shift in a characters perception this late in a procedural….. 911 you gods #i really hope they can somehow make more seasons cause they would deserve ti #it. and like. this doesn’t have to be the end of buddie?? #they could get them together at any time bc buck realizing hes into men is a lot other worm can than buck realizing hes in love with #his best friend. i just dont know how they would do it with eddie bc they would have to pull a lot of focus over there too with a big #chance of feeling repetitive with their narratives #maybe they just show them together after a timejump and say they worked some stuff out idk lmao #ANYWAY I AM STILL CRYING BECAUSE BUCK MY SON IS A CANONICAL BISEXUAL JEALOUS DISASTER JUST LIKE HIS MAMA ❤️ #THIS IS WHAT REPRESENTATION IS ACTUALLY ALL ABOUT (and i mean his horrifying handling of the feelings of being left out of course lmao) #THE LOOK EDDIE SHOT HIM TOO #i am too frazzled rn i just need to scream i think #hi. im sorry this is me coming out of the 911 closet now that wwdits is on hiatus #evan buckley!!!!! #SON OF MY SONS #LIGHT OF MY LIFE #APPLE OF MY EYE

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went—like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

#i just love writing perceptive Dustin #think it’s partly the thought that “you’re my brother and I love all of you” #steddie with dustin’s pov #dustin henderson fic #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin #steddie #pre steddie #steddie ficlet #implied steddie #steve x eddie #dustin henderson ficlet #dustin henderson #steve harrington #eddie munson #henderfam

[fakeosirian]

i'm the number one victor-fabian parallelism girlie but i must admit i was just struck with the bolt of lightning that is victor-eddie parallelism. hear me out:

strained relationship with selfish father (in victor's case too close/controlling, and in eddie's too distant/neglectful)

consequences of that relationship impact sense of identity (victor trying his best to Be his father in many ways, and eddie doing everything he can to be the opposite)

that sense of identity is something of a conscious choice to take "control" over their circumstances in response to that strained relationship (young victor learns to berate/intimidate to get his way (including taking the role of his father to punish himself when he fails), and eddie "chooses" to have a "bad boy" persona and admits to putting up a "forcefield"/that his poor attendance is a conscious aesthetic/lifestyle choice so that people don't expect too much from him in a way that he feels some sense of control over)

also worth noting that the circumstances of the society's founding means that victor was a mentor figure to sweet in his formative years, and sweet himself has a very weird relationship with victor that has this same pattern to it. to avoid victor's ire (because he seeks his approval), he doesn't take action/responsibility as headmaster in situations that he REALLY SHOULD HAVE DONE because he defers to victor (who is most likely making an obviously bad decision that everyone else privy to it is pointing out), in part because he's selfish too and doesn't like dealing with consequences (lol) but also because his loyalty to victor impedes that. but, in situations where his own pride is wounded because of victor (he starts feeling the drawbacks of being a lackey enough to consciously realize he's a lackey), he takes it out on other people, same as victor (and arguably same as eddie) -- notable examples include ALL of the expulsion scenes but especially mara's, the arguments he has with andrews in s1, and just. the entirety of season 3.

i am. not sure what this means yet but it shifted my perception of a large chunk of the show about two inches to the left and reaffirmed the read that this whole time the real treasure in anubis house was the generational trauma and the cycles of abuse we made along the way

#house of anubis #hoa #hoa meta #my writing #<- ig #i started going down a weird tangent of this shaking up the perception of victor->fabian sarah->nina eddie->rufus i tend to work with #into eddie->VICTOR and thus fabian-> rufus in a way that sort of doesnt work but the ways in which it DOES work are OOF OW MY BONES #would post but i really need to get back to writing foyf (which i have been doing) and if im not careful this will eat holes in my brain

[obwjam]

AH ily. are you willing to possibly talk about g/t Eddie munson?? Obsessed with him being with a tiny but there’s barely anything here on tumblr 💕 if not that’s totally okayy

PLSSSSS YES HE WOULD BE SO GOOD WITH A TINY. because OBVIOUSLY he is an outcast so he knows exactly how a borrower feels. he would be the best protective older brother type. he gets them food and tries to make them clothes and shows them his favorite music and most importantly, he teaches them D&D!!! the tiny is OBSESSED with D&D for many obvious reasons. they always come up with the most creative scenarios. eddie melts watching them roll the die with their entire ass body. he would be so overzealous introducing a borrower friend to the hellfire club and the tiny is just like … heeeeey… but everyone is super accepting and surprisingly cool about the existence of tiny people. eddie is also surprisingly knowledgable about borrower code which makes the tiny go 🤨 but they roll with it

#looked back through my old unanswered asks and i KNEW i had gotten stuff for him before #i just wasnt active during S4 or the eddie craze really. #he’s such a great giant though #honestly a lot of them would be #sometimes he’s clumsy but he is so perceptive and he CARES and that’s all that matters #asks

[acowardinmordor]

"or at least that's what I learned about myself this week" is one of those lines I see in gifsets that I can't think about because it makes me want to walk into the ocean for how much it conveys

#Eddie Munson #he loves DnD #he loves fantasy #he has probably spent the last decade daydreaming #about what he'd do in the face of danger #what he'd do when there was a monster #how he'd be brave and fight and win #or at least die valiantly for others #and then he ran instead #and shattered his perception of himself #all the things he thought he knew about who he was #gone in the space of a few minutes #good thing he survived and can rediscover himself #would be pretty rude narratively not to let him have that

[areyoutheregoditsmejessica]

i’m quite literally begging

canonbuddie stans to leave the fandom. please make good on your promises before season 7 gets here. i’d love to go in the bathena tag and not have to sift through junk. bathena’s sole purpose isn’t to be some parallel to buddie nor is their sole purpose to be pseudo parents to buck (and by extension eddie).

the only people who did the queerbaiting were those splicing together buddie and eddie scenes and attributing their own interpretations in an infinite number of posts to the point where people who didn’t watch 911 assumed the two were a romantic couple on the show. both characters have explicitly dated and shown interest in dating women on the show. the dialogue often had emotions and feelings that shows usually don’t show two men having (which i loved so much bc need to not use women as emotional support and find that in their own friendship) but it never skewed to either showing romantic interest in one another. the writers never teased anything in interviews, as far as i know. the actors never teased anything in interviews either, as far as i know. was a romance possible and believable? yes, of course. but that doesn’t mean it’s the only option. and it’s been clear that that wasn’t a story the writers were interested in writing no matter how loud or demanding a small group on the internet got.

#i'm also really looking forward to buck and natalia #i liked buck and taylor and lowkey miss megan west and her fiery red hair #but i can totally get behind bucktalia #i havent cared much about eddie since season 4 #they introduced a great character in season 2 then he just got progressively worst/uninteresting #i can tolerate him with marisol though especially if chris takes to her #don't bother trying to convince me the show was going THERE with buddie as a romance because it'd be a waste of time #i've been watching since the pilot episode and thought they had chemistry when he was first introduced but was joking about it i wasn't #aware there were cult believers who truly thought it was the story being told in canon until i decided to open the hellsite again after #years and found that to be the case #perception is not reality

[blacktobackmesa]

I'm assuming Fang's username is a play on something, but I can't figure out what?

It's a Homestar Runner joke, actually! See, while Fang isn't really based on anyone, I used Tr0g from RTVS as a jumping-off point for creating the character of Gordon's stream producer-- mostly just his choice of username. As many know, Trog is short for Trogdor the Burninator, the iconic dragon character drawn by Strong Bad. I started combing through sbemails to find bits and phrases that could make a fun username.

When I got to kids book, an old favorite of mine, I found what I was looking for in Strong Bad's invented word "fangoriously". Then I worked backward-- why would someone latch onto this word? Have they been using this as a name for a long time? How have they changed since then?

Fang latched onto this fun word because it was used in conjunction with his first name, though he uses the one-L spelling of Hilary. It also gave him a more fierce and funny name to use during his early teen years, when he was figuring things out with his identity (and going through the crucial Edgy Fursona phase). He's not the same person in his late 20s as he was in middle school, but he's proud of all parts of himself.

That's why he kept his first name when he transitioned-- for one thing, Hilary is a historically neutral name, but to paraphrase Eddie Izzard from her routines in the 90s, "they're not women's dresses, they're mine. I buy them." Hilary's not a girl's name on Fang, it's just his name.

(by the way, the Kids Book cartoon has a gender joke in there that didn't age very well. It was the mid 2000s internet, we learn from it. It's still a very funny toon.)

#gordon streamman #fang0riously #also to be clear eddie izzard didnt have the term genderfluid at the time of that bit. her perception of her gender has changed with time #but that quote has been such an influence on my life #i hope this explains stuff! feel free to inquire further! #also fang does not look like the hillary from the cartoon