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bizaar · 1 year

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Cruel Summer - Part 7

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pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11k (you guys i'm sorry i tried)

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence/death (get Vecna'd), some angst, some fluff

A.N.: Babysitter!reader part seven! The shit has officially hit the fan ...

You silt bolt up in bed from a dead sleep, screaming and shattering the quiet calm of the morning.

“Eddie!” you cry out, but there is no one is there to hear you.

The sound of your own voice bounces off the walls of your apartment and echoes back to you, and you sit trembling with residual fear as you do all you can to come back to yourself … It was only a dream. A terrible, terrible dream.

You had only managed a few hours of sleep in the first place, caught in the quagmire of the dreaded closing shift made that much worse by the Hawkins Intramural Boys Basketball team — now apparent state champions — descending upon the diner to celebrate their victory.

They’d trashed the place, and it had taken you the better part of two hours to get the diner anywhere clean enough to call it a day. To his credit, Lucas Sinclair (ever the sweetheart) had begged you to let him stay and help you clean, but considering the fact that he could barely stand for how drunk he was, you’d sent him away with the rest of the Tigers and promised not to tell his mother.

It was well past midnight by the time you got home. You hadn’t managed to do more than get out of your shoes before you’d slipped into the vice of Morpheus’s grasp, and you were dreaming by the time your head hit the pillow.

And then your mind swam with visions of Eddie.

You still dream about him most nights in one way or another, and you imagine you will more than likely continue to do so for years to come if not for the rest of your life, but this had been a nightmare, and it had felt so real.

Something terrible had happened, not to him, but with enough proximity to put him in danger, and there was nothing you could do to save him.

I can’t save him.

Of course, as you eventually come back down, you try to rationalize the feeling by telling yourself that it’s not your job to save him, considering how he’d broken your heart, but it is an intrinsic instinct that has proven very hard to unlearn, putting yourself between Eddie and any sort of threat.

It’s only natural to want to protect the ones you love, and you do still love him, as much as you hate to admit.

It only sends you into a downward spiral of guilt and anger and all the other nasty little emotions you don’t have the presence of mind to dredge up on some random morning in April, running on maybe three hours of sleep and already late for your next shift.

Spring Break, your mind informs you rather unhelpfully. It’s Spring Break.

Adrenaline has made you dreadfully nauseous, and you breathe a shaky sigh as you press your hands into your eyes until you see colors.

You suddenly have to work very hard to ignore the terrible sensation it dredges up as your dream fights to make its way to the front of your mind again.

Lights winking on and off with enough gusto to be seizure-inducing, illuminating the scene of eyes wrenching back from their sockets and limbs twisting up unnaturally, snapping out of place…

You’re fine, it’s fine, everything is fine… just breathe.

Somehow you can’t quite convince yourself it’s true.

It is hard to feel anywhere even remotely in the realm of fine when you wake with the sudden and desperate screaming notion to run!

The feeling only persists as you rise from your bed and try to go about your morning, jumping at every slightest sound.

Run! Your brain tells you, and you have no idea where it is you ought to be running to, except maybe the Forest Hills trailer park, as your irrational mind tells you that you won’t be fine until you know Eddie is fine, and you’re not about to go banging down the door of the Munson trailer just because you had a bad dream.

That would be wildly embarrassing, even for you.

It takes you the better part of an hour to banish the residual fear of your dream, showering away the sweat that has dried tacky on your skin, wolfing down a quick breakfast, getting dressed and ready for the day in your scratchy grease-stained work uniform, all the while trying to deafen yourself to the ubiquitous echoes of cracking bones, silently willing yourself to calm down, calm down, calm down.

It isn’t working.

Even outside the realm of your dreams, you can’t stop thinking about Eddie. Though perhaps more importantly you can’t stop thinking about the fact that it’s spring break, which means it’s been nearly a year since you’d last seen him.

You’re having a very hard time trying to suppress the nagging feeling that wherever he is, Eddie needs you and you’re borderline obsessing over the thought that if you don’t find him, something very bad is going to happen.

Of course, that line of thinking puts you in a rather awkward position, because you’re still not quite sure you’re physically capable of handling the concept of seeing Eddie again. This is made all the more evident considering the way you’d thrown your telephone across the room like it had jumped up and tried to bite you after having inadvertently found yourself on the phone with him last month.

It leaves you feeling hopelessly stuck, so to try and distract yourself from the crushing sense of impending doom, you indulge yourself in a little self-harm, recalling how last year you had planned to spend Spring Break road-tripping...

It took the two of you weeks to plan the trip, mapping out the route, everywhere you would camp, all the roadside attractions you would hit, budgeting your pooled money down to the penny. You would be flat broke by the time you got home, but you had convinced yourselves it would be worth it.

It was never meant to be.

Beyond the fact that the heavens had decided to open up and dump what you assumed must have been all the rain for the rest of the entire year in one weeklong downpour, the van’s transmission went out the day before you were meant to leave, stranding Eddie and the band on the highway halfway between Hawkins and the next town over, as is always the way.

So you drove an hour and a half through the torrential downpour to go and rescue him at the random interstate pay phone he'd called you from. He slid into your passenger seat, soaking wet and positively fuming, ranting and raving about the piece of shit van and his stupid friends and the whole goddamn situation as you went and collected the rest of the band, left to sit huddled in the relative warm but most importantly dry van.

Then, with Gareth, Jeff, and Adam crammed like Sardines into the back of your little Toyota, the heater cranked up and the stereo turned down, you’d all sat shivering in relative silence as you followed the tow truck back to Hawkins, taking with it the van and all the money you’d saved for your trip.

The guys pooled their money to cover the tow, as they came to figure was only fair (with a little prompting from you). The repairs themselves came out to cost a whopping twelve hundred and sixty-seven dollars and thirty-nine cents, quite conveniently the exact amount of money you and Eddie had saved between the two of you, though that price only came to be after the mechanic overheard your hushed conversation about what you could afford — don’t you hate it when that happens?

So, road-tripping dreams dashed to oblivion, you’d spent Spring Break sitting on Eddie’s couch. You’d assigned yourself the role of his sick nurse, making sure the cold he’d caught while waiting for you in the rain didn’t develop into pneumonia, all the while tirelessly assuring him it was fine that you didn’t get to go, that there was nothing to be sorry about, the road and all its attractions would still be there next year, and no he absolutely was not allowed to pay you back.

“Consider it back-pay for all the gas money I owe you.” You’d told him, brushing his hair back from his clammy forehead as he lay pressed into your side, coughing and sneezing miserably.

All things considered, it hadn’t been too terrible a way to spend a week off from your last year of school, building a massive blanket fort in the living room in which to marathon movies, play board games, eat your weight in snacks, and fool around once Eddie felt a little better.

(Funny how he always seemed to be miraculously healed of whatever ailment held him in its clutches at death’s door when sex was on the table.)

It was one last hurrah of adolescent fun, stretching the Endless Summer just a little further before having to face graduation and the impending threshold of adulthood… well, at least for one of you.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since all that. One quick turn around the sun and suddenly it’s Spring Break, and Eddie needs rescuing again – or so insists your subconscious.

You should go see him, a tiny nagging voice inside of you presses, You should go check on him.

“No, thank you,” you tell the stupid little voice as you snatch up your keys and head out the door of your apartment.

You’ve got to go to work, and somehow getting verbally abused by the patrons of your shitty waitress job is so much more appealing than the thought of trying to make awkward small talk with Eddie after eight months of nothing.

You can’t imagine he’d be pleased to see you, considering it all.

You can only just picture yourself standing at the bottom of the steps, trying your best not to look at him while wringing your hands and struggling to explain that you’re standing on his doorstep because of a feeling.

Boy howdy, doesn’t that just sound like the best time a girl could possibly have?

Still, it feels a little too much like denial, deluding yourself into assuming he’s fine just because you don’t want to go see him. It does nothing to settle your nerves, and by the time you get to work, you’re just about ready to puke for how your insides have twisted themselves into a Gordian knot.

You bid an absent hello to your co-worker and skirt around the back of the counter to stash your things, ignoring the way she berates you for how she had to finish cleaning up what you had left undone the night before.

She doesn’t like you much anymore since you’d had to tell her you wouldn’t be watching her demonic children, and she is not shy about making it known.

Normally you would have said something to try and defend yourself, told her to blame the Hawkins Tigers, but you are understandably too preoccupied to consider doing so.

Maybe Wayne can check on Eddie for you…

“Stop it.” You hiss at no one in particular, biting the inside of your cheek and reminding yourself for the hundredth time in the last half hour that Eddie is still a jerk and that you and Wayne have made a silent agreement not to talk about him.

It was a very complicated way of simplifying the weird patchwork friendship you’d built up with the elder Munson in the ashes of your relationship with his nephew, but that is how you preferred it remains.

You are not going to ruin your streak of very successfully avoiding the topic of Eddie by asking Wayne about him just because you had a bad dream.

A really, really, really bad dream.

Of course, it’s a highly plausible scenario considering Wayne is due in today for your weekly session of catch-up. You could very easily get an indirect report on Eddie’s wellbeing if you really wanted to, but you banish the thought before it can fully form.

You know if you ask, Wayne is just going to tell you to go see him, and you are not going to go see him.

You tie your apron tight enough to dig uncomfortably into your sides and clock in and try every mental exercise you can think of to try to stop the constant loop of Eddie Eddie Eddie passing through your brain like a weather report scrolling along the bottom of the television screen during the morning news.

It is unbearably slow at the diner, just like it is every day, though today there is a patent strangeness to how particularly empty the dining room is. Benny’s has never gotten much traffic to begin with, not even when Benny himself was around, but even the morning regulars seem to be missing today.

It’s wholly bizarre and does nothing to quash your nervous feeling, particularly as the first hour of your shift comes and goes without a single customer.

“Kinda slow, huh?” You hum, hoping a little conversation might aid in distracting you.

Your coworker stands leaning against the counter, filing her lacquered nails. She gives you an uninterested look.

“There’s some kinda commotion going on at the trailer park.” She says flatly, “Folks probably all went down to see what’s what. They’ll be here soon enough, don't you worry your pretty little head.”

You ignore the biting sarcasm dripping from her tone and swallow hard to banish the spike of anxiety that grips your stomach and forces a knot up into your throat.

Trouble at the trailer park.

Oh no.

You struggle to keep your voice steady as you speak, almost too afraid to ask yet unable to keep your mouth shut.

“What kind of commotion?”

Your coworker shrugs, not bothering to look up from her filing as she answers you.

“Who knows.” She huffs, and before she can elaborate, the cook, who also happens to be your boss, pipes up from the kitchen.

“Some girl got killed or somethin’,” he calls, and you feel the blood drain from your face.

You dig your nails into your palms to try and ground yourself as you are struck with the hideous feeling of deja-vu.

Your coworker is apparently less affected by the information. She heaves an angry sigh and throws her hands down, chunky plastic bracelets clacking loudly and sounding much too similar to snapping bones for your liking as she does.

“Now, how in the hell could you possibly know that, Earl?”

“I got my sources, anyways, I seen them cop cars go roarin’ down the street. They only haul ass like that when there’s a body. Like when they found that Byers kid down in the quarry.”

You suppress a shudder as once again your dream rushes to the front of your mind. You retreat from it, electing instead to hide in the memory of the night they’d thought they found Will —

—you’d been with Eddie. It was one of the first times you’d really hung out together, not a date, just one on one time in the earliest stages of whatever it was going on between you. More than a friendship, not quite a relationship, back when all you knew was that he was so strangely different than all your friends had warned you, and you had a ridiculous crush on him that you’d hoped beyond hope was mutual.

You’d seen that exact procession of cop cars go whipping past you on the road, and Eddie – who had just been very glad he wasn’t being pulled over – made a flippant comment along the lines of “guess they found that missing kid,”

He hadn’t meant anything by it, and he’d been very chagrined when you called him up later that night after learning they had in fact found Will. You couldn’t have expressly explained why you called Eddie that night, except that your parents weren’t home, it didn’t feel appropriate to be at the Henderson’s right then, and in the mire of your reeling mind, your empty house was suddenly terribly frightening.

You suppose you called Eddie because he made you feel safe.

“Do you want me to come over?” He’d asked, quickly and quietly, and when you sheepishly asked if you could go over to his place instead, he’d agreed to come and get you without a moment's hesitation — you could hear his keys in hand before he even hung up, promising to be there in five minutes.

That was how you’d found yourself sitting on your front steps, shivering in your pajamas while you waited for him, making the excuse that it would be easier to lie about where you’d been rather than try to explain what a random boy was doing in your house if your parents happened to come home.

Of course, that line of thinking suggested that anyone could have stepped in to comfort you that night, and that was just patently untrue.

Even then, you only wanted Eddie, pulling up to your house and driving you back across town to spend the night glued to his side, lying in his bed, whispering back and forth conspiratorially like kids having a sleepover, like you’d known each other for years and were privy to the deepest secrets of each other’s hearts.

You were barely even friends, and yet somehow you knew, from flipping through the yellow pages to find his number to drifting off to the hushed sounds of his voice while he read aloud the first few chapters of some fantasy novel, you would never want anyone else but him.

You are vaguely aware of how you’ve been subtly pinching yourself to try not to think about how, if you were really honest with yourself, that had been the night you’d fallen in love with Eddie — it only makes your chest ache with anxiety as you remember the crushing sense of danger from your dream like suddenly the whole world is bearing down on him.

I have to find him…

It is an intrusive thought, new and terrifying as the notion of needing to find Eddie indicates that somehow he is missing. It is enough to move you to panic.

Behind you, your coworkers continue to bicker, but you don’t hear them. You’ve moved to stare out the window, at your car sitting lonely in the lot, watching for any kind of traffic, any sign of things to come … any sign of Eddie…

The trailer park is not far from here, maybe half a mile at the most, and you rationalize that you could feasibly make the distance in less than five minutes if you ran.

You aren’t sure why your brain decided to deliver that information to you, only that if you were the religious type, you would have been praying to whoever might be listening that whatever trouble is happening down at the trailer park has nothing to do with Eddie.

I have to find Eddie. Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie—

And then, like a part of your brain has clicked off, suddenly all you know is action.

Somewhere in the very far distance, you think you can hear your boss calling your name, but you don’t hear him, not really. You don’t hear anything but the skipping record of your mind moving you.

You don’t think, you just go.

Out the door and practically sprinting, the hoarse shouting voice of your boss falls on deaf ears as you skirt right past your car and disappear into the woods.

You don’t care about your pride or your hurt feelings, or whether or not Eddie will be happy to see you, all of that nonsense is the furthest thing from your mind as you run. You’ve got to see him, you’ve got to find him, no matter what.

If there are cops at the trailer park, they’re going to be blocking the road, so you convince yourself that you can avoid them by going through the woods, exiting the treeline and making a break for Eddie’s bedroom window.

Twigs snag the skirt of your dress as you move through the thicket at a pace, the crunching of leaves and detritus is thunderous under your sneakers as you go.

It is only a matter of minutes before you emerge from the first line of trees, flying across the backroad without a second thought for traffic and pushing through the last stretch of the woods until finally, the trailer park opens up before you.

You pause a moment to catch your breath, doubled over resting on your knees and listening for a hint at whatever lies ahead.

It’s eerily still, despite how beneath the gentle flapping of laundry on the line and the hum of generators, you can hear the buzz of movement, voices speaking, and crackling radios much closer than you’d accounted for.

You’d never been much for trouble before you met Eddie. Your experience with the Hawkins police begins and ends with distracting them so that he could slip away undetected, and it occurs to you perhaps too late that this could very easily end with you being arrested, which would be at best very inconvenient and at worst?

Your parents don't live in Hawkins anymore, so who would be there to bail you out if that happened? Claudia Henderson? Wayne? How would you make sure Eddie is okay if you’re sitting in a jail cell?

Still, you can’t let your wariness of trouble stop you now, not after you’ve already come most of the way.

You would always rather come running to Eddie’s rescue when he doesn’t need you than risk not being there when he does, and it is enough to refill the well of your courage.

You bite back the same urge to run you’d felt that morning when you woke up and stay low.

Despite having not set foot on these grounds for the better part of a year, you retrace the path through the park with patent expertise, like no time has passed at all. Then again, nothing ever changes down here, and you are sure you could find your way to the Munson trailer in the dark with your eyes closed if you had to, and suddenly there you are.

The police are there as well, much to your dismay, right on the other side of the trailer, milling about the circular drive at the center of the park, talking amongst themselves and into their radios.

You know you’ve only got a very brief window of opportunity to slip inside unnoticed, and your heart is hammering in your chest as you rap your knuckles on the glass as sharply as you dare.

The only person you need to hear you is Eddie, though of course that would only be possible if he happens to be in his room, which you’re willing to wager he isn’t, especially with a heavy police presence right on his front step.

If he isn’t the cause of the trouble, you can be damn sure he’s standing on the porch, watching the trouble unfold.

He’s nosy like that.

Disappointingly, your knocking garners no response.

You swallow hard and push up on your toes to grip the windowpane, tugging on it. It takes a few tries before it finally slides open with more than a little resistance.

You bite your lip against its harsh sound, metal scraping on metal, and quickly brace yourself on the pane to hoist yourself up and over before anyone can investigate and find you there.

Your world briefly goes topsy-turvy as you tumble forward into the room and land with a hard grunt and muffled utterance of “ow – fuck”, sending tapes and other knickknacks tumbling to the ground around you.

In days past when you’d done this exact thing, you would have had the benefit of the bed to break your fall, but of course, in those days you were just as likely to land on top of Eddie as an empty mattress.

As much as he liked it when you snuck over like that, he was not partial to being kicked in the head, and you’d both decided that it was better to knock over a side table and make a mess than it was to risk giving him a concussion, so you’d made the executive decision to move the bed into the position where it rests today, sans Eddie.

You have to sit for a moment to catch your breath, because beyond the sprinting and the acrobatics you’d just engaged in, it’s been eight months of nothing but memories, and suddenly you’re in his room.

You hadn’t accounted for how that was going to affect you — strangely it’s like no time has passed. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust against the relative dark, but it’s easy to see that the room remains unchanged since last you were here, all metal posters and discarded clothes and papers, the two guitars, the amps, the unmade bed.

It smells like weed and tobacco and dirty laundry and the pervasive undertone of something that is so wholly Eddie that you suddenly forget why you are here, sitting where you landed beneath the window.

You look around the room, surveying the familiar mess, and, unable to help yourself, you reach out and pull a t-shirt from the overstuffed dresser drawer, sitting ajar where it had been forced unsuccessfully back into place.

You hug it to your chest and repeat one of Eddie’s five stupid jokes to yourself.

“When is a drawer not a drawer?” He would have said, grinning ear to ear like he was about to blow your mind with the oldest joke in the book.

“When it’s ajar…”

You can’t help the disappointment that lances through your midsection not to have found him there, because as much as you try to convince yourself that it doesn’t expressly mean something terrible has happened to him, part of you had hoped it would be that easy.

You turn the shirt over in your hands and trace the faded script spelling out the name of the band you can barely make out – you think at one point in time it must have said “Misfits” – and without really thinking, you bury your face in the fabric, breathing deep and flooding your senses with him.

Once again, all you can think is Eddie Eddie Eddie, and before you know it you’re drunk on his smell, familiar as childhood and tugging at your heart. Like being wrapped in a security blanket, you feel a strange sense of calm wash over you, not daring to promise that anything will be okay so much as assuring you that you are on the right track.

You heave a sigh and slump back against the wall, kicking your leg out – your foot collides with something.

There is the corner of a box peeking out from beneath the bed.

Were you in your right mind, you might have thought twice about investigating, considering you know all too well what kinds of things teen boys keep stashed under their beds, what Eddie has had under his bed in days past, but you recognize your own handwriting scribbled across the side of the box and very suddenly you’ve surged forward to pull the box free before you even realize you’d moved.

It’s all pictures, posters, polaroids, band-tees, memories, and other things you don’t expressly remember packing into that box back in late August.

It’s everything that had been Eddie in your life with the addition of everything that had been you in his, carefully tucked away, miraculously still here — not trashed or burned or even remotely destroyed.

Preserved.

You marvel as you pluck at a long polaroid strip of photos with the Starcourt Mall logo splashed across the top and fail to stifle the water laugh that bubbles up from somewhere inside you.

You turn it over in your trembling hands and see the two ticket stubs for Teen Wolf stapled to the top.

You don’t remember a moment of the movie, but you vividly remember the day, sliding into the booth to take photos, laughing and playing, and pulling at each other while the camera flashed away.

It’s Eddie giving you bunny ears and you sticking your tongue out, followed by Eddie pretending to bite your face while you laughed, followed by Eddie kissing you, and you kissing Eddie, and Eddie kissing you…

It’s just a little bit too much, suddenly having photographic evidence of the things you had almost convinced yourself had never actually happened after almost a year of wallowing in self-pity and denial and anger and everything in between.

It makes you feel a little crazy.

You’re just about ready to come apart at the seams when you hear sounds coming from the front room, the screen door swinging open, heavy footsteps thumping across the floor.

And of course, because you aren’t in your right mind, you make a leap in logic and ignore your better judgment as you decide who you think it is that just walked through the door.

“Eddie—” you gasp.

You shove the box haphazardly back beneath the bed and scramble to your feet, absently stuffing the photo reel into your apron pocket as you crawl over the bed and throw open the door.

You fly into the living room without a second thought about who or what you are going to find there.

You are woefully unprepared.

Eddie is not there, only a handful of police officers who you have just given what might have perhaps been the worst scare of their lives had it not been for the mutilated, twisted body of what you think must have very recently been a girl, lying on the floor in front of the open door.

You stagger and stop and freeze, unable to tear your eyes away as you immediately come to recognize her, despite her ruined state.

Red blonde ponytail tied with a green scrunchie, half wrenched out of place, heavy blue eyeshadow stained and shadowed where her lids droop down into empty eye sockets, ever so slightly crooked front teeth on display where her mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

It's Chrissy Cunningham.

The police react to you with appropriate alarm, considering the way you’d come hurdling out of the back room and the blood-curdling scream that wrenches itself from the depths of your core, like you were some kind of banshee.

The sound tears itself from your lungs without your consent, but you don’t think you could have stopped yourself from screaming at that moment if your life depended on it.

Suddenly you can see it so clearly — the flashing lights illuminating Chrissy’s body as it rises from the ground, trancelike and trembling, her limbs twisting themselves unnaturally, snapping and cracking before her eyes wrenched themselves back into the depths of her skull.

This is what you’d dreamt — your nightmare.

Chrissy is dead and Eddie is missing.

+++

Dustin sits perched on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the television. He barely hears what the reporter is saying for how loudly the blood is pounding in his ears.

There is a cold lump in his stomach.

Beside him, his mother sniffles as the anchorwoman drones on about another dead girl, and he knows what she’s going to say — it’s too much for her poor nerves, she can’t take it.

He can’t help the way his mind strays to the terrible possibilities of the moment, what could have happened, who it could be laying dead in the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin fights the urge to look out the front window, to the house across the street where you don’t live anymore. In days past he would have run across the street and pounded on your door, just to make sure you were home safe and not dead on the other end of town, but he tells himself that he’s just being paranoid.

He can almost hear you telling him not to worry about you, but how can he not worry about you when he’s made it his full-time job?

Dustin sits and silently works out the logistics of what going to check on you would look like and very quickly decides there is no cool or casual way to go about doing that.

He’d have to haul ass all the way into town to your apartment, and even if he did there was no guarantee he’d even find you there.

He tells himself there’s no way he’s going to go check on you just because he saw something on the news.

You're probably at work anyway — he glances reflexively at the clock on the wall — ten-thirty on a Saturday morning? Yeah, you're definitely at work.

Still, he can’t help but imagine the scenario in which he did, how touched you would be if he came riding in like a knight in shining armor.

He imagines you smiling big and broad, brows turned up with emotion, and clasping your hands together.

“Oh, Dustin,” you would say, “You came all this way for me? You didn't have to do that, you could have just called—”

He should just call you.

Dustin leaps up from his seat, thoroughly startling his mother as he runs for the phone.

“Dusty what on earth?!” She cries, twisting around to try and see what has put a fire under his ass, “Where are you going?”

He’s already punching in the last digits of your number as he answers.

“I gotta make a call!”

The phone rings and rings and rings. He stands and listens to the droning sound with mounting anxiety, holding his breath as he waits to see if you will answer.

He hopes beyond hope that you’re just at work, that nothing has gone terribly wrong – they said it was a high school student, but nobody ever accused the Hawkins local news of being accurate when it came to the facts.

Disappointingly, the phone clicks over to play the message on your answering machine. Your sweet voice rings through the receiver to vibrate against Dustin’s ear, telling him to leave a message after the tone, and he heaves a dejected sigh, when…

BANG BANG BANG

Dustin’s head snaps around as suddenly there is a thunderous pounding at his front door. He slams the phone into the box hard enough to make it chime and flies across the room.

“I’ll get it I'll get it I'll get it!” He says in a rush, fingers closing on the doorknob before his mother can even think to get up.

He wrenches the door open, half expecting to find you there, and can’t deny how summarily disappointed he is to see Max standing there, looking particularly out of breath.

Her face is flushed, eyes wide, chest and shoulders heaving as she openly pants like she’d just run a great distance.

Rode her bike was more likely the case, Dustin surmises as he glances over her shoulder to see where her bike lays on the lawn, wheels still spinning, clearly having just been thrown down.

He hardly has the opportunity to wonder what’s got her so excited before she's pushing past him to force herself inside

“I need to talk to you,” she says, stalking down the hall toward Dustin's bedroom at a pace.

He follows her, having to jog to keep up, then shuts the door, and listens as Max tells him everything — about Chrissy, about Eddie, about what she’d seen and heard last night and this morning.

It paints a terrible picture, and it horrifies Dustin to hear what Max is suggesting, but he can’t help the wave of relief that floods his body to hear the dead girl isn’t you.

He knows he ought to feel bad about it, but all he can think is Thank God it’s not you – that’s when the confusion sets in.

“Chrissy?”

“Yes.”

“Chrissy Cunningham...”

“Yes.”

He folds his arms over his chest and tries to make sense of it, because Chrissy and Eddie?

“...Are you sure?”

Max furrows her brow and gives him a much more intense version of the same look you would have given him when you thought he was condescending or being sexist or a male chauvinist or whatever you would have called it.

On you it would have been mere admonishment, on Max, it warns him that he is very close to getting punched, so Dustin backs off.

Still though, the arguable Princess of Hawkins High and the Freak? It doesn’t make sense outside of some kind of cliche Hollywood romance, not in real life though.

He can’t get his head around it. Dustin doesn’t think he’s ever even seen them in the same room – then he remembers.

He has seen them together. Thursday afternoon. Fifth period.

He’d been on his way back from the bathroom and stopped to get a drink at the water fountain to kill a little bit more time when hushed voices drew his attention.

That’s when Dustin saw them standing together at the far end of the hall.

Eddie and Chrissy.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see Chrissy smiling shyly, and he’d been very confused not to see Eddie’s typical manic energy – it’s like he was calm, for once in his life.

If he had to describe it, Dustin would almost say that he thought they were flirting, but that can't be right... because Chrissy Cunningham? And Eddie Munson? How does that math add up?

It had been one of the stranger things Dustin had witnessed in the past few weeks, and he’d fully meant to ask Eddie about it, but with how vicious he’d been over the potentiality of postponing the Cult of Vecna, Dustin had completely forgotten it.

And now Chrissy is dead.

And Eddie is missing.

His stomach is in knots at the thought. Like the weight of the world is suddenly bearing down on his shoulders, he sinks onto his bed.

He thinks back to the news report, to the trailer sitting in the distance behind the anchorwoman – was that Eddie’s place?

Dustin can’t remember, he’s only been there a handful of times, always in the dark, and he’d never thought to pay much attention to what the facade of the trailer looked like… it could have been Eddie’s place, but it could also have been any number of nearly identical trailers in the park.

Still, he can't shake the sick feeling that is settling in his abdomen.

Christ. Was it Eddie’s though?

Dustin shakes his head to stop that line of thinking before it can really get going. He can’t go there, he can’t afford to let that seed of doubt plant itself in his mind.

Everyone is going to blame him, because of course they are – there’s a dead girl in the trailer park and he’s Eddie Munson, the town Freak.

Dustin can suddenly hear Eddie’s words in his mind, see the persecuted look he’d had on his face that day at the campus phone – I guess that’s enough in this town, huh?

He has to do something, he has to try and help him.

“He didn’t do it,” Dustin says immediately.

Max scoffs.

“We don’t know that…”

It leaves him reeling and suddenly Dustin cannot believe the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. Sure, he supposes Max doesn’t know Eddie like he does, all she has to go on is the facade he puts up, that first day he’d approached them in the lunchroom way back in November.

Even so, he’d never in a million years think she’d just assume he was guilty along with everyone else.

Max should have known better than that.

"Don't say that!" Dustin gasps.

"Well — we don't."

He’s fully aware of how he is gawping at her, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. It makes her uncomfortable and suddenly Max is fidgeting.

She makes a show of throwing up her hands, shrugging her shoulders.

“Dustin… come on,” She says, “I saw him–”

It’s his turn to cut her off then.

“No, you come on. Come on! You don’t know what you saw!” Dustin surprises himself by snapping.

Max’s eyes widen and she recoils, and he immediately begins to backpedal

“...Look, I know you don’t think much of him, but Eddie is –” He sighs, “When we got to school? He was the only one who was nice to us. He’s the only one who gives a shit about losers like me and Mike. Now he’s in trouble and you want to just let that go because you think you saw something? No way. We can’t just sit back and let this happen. They’re gonna tear him apart, we have to do something.”

For a long moment, nobody says anything.

Max rolls her eyes, but to her credit, she is clearly chagrined enough to hang her head in a way that could almost be construed as sheepish.

Regardless of what she decides to do, Dustin knows he has to save Eddie, find a way to clear his name, he just doesn’t precisely know how to do that — and then something tiny in the back of his mind pipes up with your name.

Maybe you will know what to do.

It’s like a lightbulb clicking on, and Dustin leaps up from his bed.

“Holy shit.” He says.

"What?"

He's beaming at Max when he answers.

"Lady Midnight!"

The reference goes right over her head and she stares back at him, uncomprehending. She doesn't play D&D with them, she doesn't know, but Dustin does, and more importantly, you would know.

“What – hey!” Max has to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled as Dustin goes tearing down the hall to the phone.

“Holy shit holy shit!”

Of course, you'll know what to do, you're the purveyor of secrets and forbidden knowledge. You always had creative solutions to seemingly impossible problems.

You'll help them find Eddie, or at least help them approach the situation from a new angle with a fresh set of eyes.

"Dustin, where are you going?" Max calls, her voice lilting with annoyance as she follows him back down the hall.

He doesn’t answer. He’s already halfway through dialing your number again before he remembers that you aren’t home, and he hangs up with an aggravated growl.

More frustrating, he doesn’t know the number for Benny’s off the top of his head.

Adrenaline surges through his body.

“Mom, where are the yellow pages?” He shouts.

His mother, still glued to the television, twists around and gives him a funny look, then her face brightens as she regards Max, like she hadn’t even realized she was there.

“What– oh, hello Max.” She says wetly.

Max shuffles on her feet and gives an awkward wave, and Dustin makes a harsh sound of annoyance.

They don’t have time for this.

“Mom! The yellow pages!”

His mother furrows her brow and immediately gets huffy with him.

“Don’t shout, Dusty! They’re right there in the kitchen drawer, for goodness sake!”

Dustin rounds the corner of the kitchen island and rips the drawer open with enough force to tear it off its slide.

Pens, paperclips, rubber bands, and other pieces of clutter go scattering across the linoleum along with the yellow tome listing every registered number in Roane county.

Dustin drops to his knees and begins flipping through the pages like a man possessed while Max stands looking on in a mix of horror and confusion like she is witnessing him have a complete and total breakdown.

“Who could you possibly be calling?” She demands.

Dustin looks up at her and says your name incredulously like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It does nothing but deepen the confusion spread across Max’s face, so Dustin goes on to explain.

“She’s probably already at work, so I need to number for Benny’s–”

Max shakes her head.

“She's not there.”

“Well I already tried her at home, and she didn’t answer–”

“No, Dustin, you don’t understand.” Max insists, “I just saw her, she’s at Eddie’s.”

The gravity of her tone is jarring and Dustin immediately forgets the phonebook as he looks up at Max. Suddenly his mind is spinning at Mach-five trying to process all the information that has been fed into it in the last two minutes.

“...What?” He splutters.

First Eddie and Chrissy, somehow together, now you, apparently at the trailer park, at Eddie's place where by all accounts he should be and you should not? Where Chrissy is dead? He can't make heads or tails of it.

“What’s she doing there?”

Max hesitates and bites her lip like she’s not entirely sure she ought to say – Dustin has to prompt her to get her to finally spit it out, and when she does, he feels like he’s going to faint.

“Honestly? I’m pretty sure she was getting arrested.”

+++

You’re dragged out of the trailer by your elbow, like a naughty child who needs to be disciplined.

It’s then that you finally see Wayne, standing off to the side being interviewed by a number of officers.

You’re half frantic as you call out to him – for help or just relief that he’s there, you can’t quite be sure, but it does nothing to help the crazed energy of the moment.

“Wayne!”

His eyes widen in alarm to see you, and he makes like he means to move forward, do something to help you, but the officers stop him before he can start.

“Hey– hey leave her be!” He shouts.

It’s startling. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never once heard Wayne raise his voice.

Chief Powell follows you out, positively fuming as he crosses the small strip of grass that serves as the front lawn. He thrusts an accusatory finger at you as he addresses Wayne.

“Mr. Munson, I do believe you previously told us that nobody was in the house.”

Wayne nods.

“Yessir, that’s correct,”

“Explain to me, then, why this girl just came running out of the back bedroom like a bat out of hell?”

All eyes are on you then. You struggle against the hands that hold you and feel your heart palpitate – it’s a very good question, you hate to admit, one you don’t have a great answer for.

Somehow, it seemed like a good idea at the time, just doesn’t seem like it’s going to cut it.

The Chief is waiting for an answer, and Wayne finally has to just shake his head, because of course, he doesn’t know why you were in Eddie’s room either.

Powell reels on you then, and your stomach bottoms out. He gives the officers restraining you a harsh look and they release you.

You stagger, struggling to stay upright on your feet and tug on your dress to straighten it. You brush your knuckles across your nose and avert your eyes, shrinking under the Police Chief’s hard gaze.

After what feels like an excruciatingly long time, he finally speaks.

“How long have you been hiding in there?” He demands.

You shrug your shoulders in a way that is perhaps too flippant for the gravity of the situation you have found yourself in.

“Like two minutes.” You sniff, “And I wasn’t hiding, I just came in through the window.”

He gives you an incredulous look.

“Why?”

“I was looking for…” you trail off and glance over at Wayne, staring at you with his features screwed up in patent confusion.

You begin to fidget with your fingers, twisting at the cheap silver ring you’ve since started wearing to make up for the one you’d packed up with the box of everything else sitting under Eddie's bed.

You clear your throat to try and sound a little less like a whiney child.

“I was looking for Eddie…”

“Eddie Munson?”

You nod.

Powell stares at you a little longer before he sighs and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he rocks back on his heels.

“So you don’t know what happened in there?”

You shake your head and try not to glance at the crumpled figure of Chrissy you can still see lying in the doorway.

Powell sighs again, rests his hands on his hips, casting his gaze down to his feet before looking back up at you.

"And I don't suppose you would know where Eddie is?"

Again you shake your head.

The police chief levels you with another hard stare, like he’s working something over in his head, trying to decide or understand, you can’t be sure. For a long moment, it is all you can do but focus on trying to remember how to breathe as you wait to see if he’s going to put cuffs on you.

He doesn’t.

Instead he turns and stalks back across the grass towards Wayne.

“Do you know this girl?” Powell asks.

“Yessir,” Wayne says quickly, then proceeds to rattle off basic information about you, including but not limited to your name and an explanation about how you’re a friend of his nephew’s who he sort of looks after you since your folks moved away.

For some odd reason, your stomach goes tight and fluttery to hear Wayne refer to you as Eddie’s friend.

That’s how he’d addressed you when you’d first met.

“So, you’re a friend of Ed’s, huh?” He’d said.

You’re suddenly wracked with guilt – this is not how you imagined this scenario going at all.

You’d imagined you were going to be this big hero, swooping in to pull Eddie out of a trouble you’d only known about through some kind of bizarre clairvoyance.

Instead, turns out you’re a stupid fucking idiot who should have taken a moment to think before you went climbing in through windows.

You force yourself not to look away this time when Powell looks back at you – he stares, you fidget, and then he returns his attention to Wayne.

You don’t hear what he says, as he’s dropped his voice to a low tenor and you can’t see his face to try and read his lips.

You watch as Wayne puts up his hands defensively.

“Listen to me,” He says quietly, “She’s a good girl. I promise you she didn’t have nothin’ to do with this.” and the guilt you feel becomes all-encompassing.

Stupid girl, more like.

It’s another few excruciating minutes of back and forth before the tension finally breaks. You are, however, not turned loose, much like you'd expected to be.

After it’s established that you’re not an immediate threat, standing there in your torn up sneakers and waitress uniform, you’re set to lean against one of the various cop cars parked on the lawn.

You know Eddie, so they’ve got to interview you, much to your chagrin.

This is exactly what you’d been trying to avoid by climbing in through the window.

Great job.

It’s Officer Callahan, in all his insipid glory, who comes sauntering up to you shortly after, hands resting on his gun belt in a way you suppose is meant to be intimidating.

It doesn’t come across.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He starts, fishing his pad of paper from his belt and making a point to loudly click his pen. He uses it to point at you, “You know, you’re in a lot of trouble, Missy.”

You stare back at him and hope he feels every bit of disdain you hold for him.

Callahan sucks his teeth. “So, what were you doing hiding in the bedroom like that?”

You heave a frustrated sigh.

“I already told you, I wasn’t hiding. I climbed in through the window to find Eddie.”

“Right, so you said.” He huffs, glancing up at you from his pad briefly before doing a halfway comical doubletake.

Something like recognition flashes across his face and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes because of course this dingus wouldn't recognize you.

You'd always wondered how Clark Kent could get away with disguising himself with a change of clothes, turns out most people are just patently stupid, Officer Callahan included.

“Oh, wait a minute, I know you – you’re Munson’s little girlfriend.”

Bingo.

Bizarrely, it sets your teeth on edge and your mouth is moving before your brain can catch up.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” You say perhaps too quickly.

It draws the attention of everyone within earshot, Chief Powell and Wayne included.

You shrink under their gaze and kick yourself for how you realize too late that it sounded like a renouncement of Eddie. It was only a knee-jerk reaction, an intrusive thought built up to defend yourself from the random waves of grief that still hit you now and then. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Officer Callahan side-eyes you and snorts with humorless laughter.

“Coulda fooled me,” he scoffs.

You would argue, except suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you’ve been with Eddie when he’s been pulled over and hassled by the Hawkins police. By Officer Callahan and then still Officer Powell specifically.

He’s technically right – just not regarding the current state of affairs – because you had been Eddie’s girlfriend during all those previous incidents.

Still, you cross your arms over your chest and avert your gaze.

“Not that it’s any of your business…” You start, confident at first before you second guess yourself and a misplaced sheepishness creeps into your voice, “...but we broke up,”

Officer Callahan scoffs and the reaction leaves you indignant.

Rude.

“Okay, so I get it now. You break his heart, and he’s pissed but won’t take it out on you, so he takes it out on poor Chrissy in there, huh?”

Callahan gestures to the open trailer door with his pen, and you can’t help but get a little stuck staring at the body still laying there – you start to wonder why they haven’t covered her up yet, but then he snaps to draw your attention back.

“That sound about right?”

You furrow your brow.

“…It sounds like you’ve been watching a lot of true crime documentaries.”

He glares at you.

“It’s motive.”

“It’s bullshit.”

Officer Callahan’s eyebrows jump up from where they’d been previously hidden beneath the thick rim of his glasses.

The brusque nature of your answer seems to stagger him a bit. You’ve never had so much bite behind you in all the times you’ve interacted, electing instead to try and kill them with kindness so as not to get Eddie into any more trouble.

It leaves him stammering for a response.

“Hey now—” He begins, thrusting an accusatory finger at you like he means to lecture you.

“No.” You insist, and when he puts his hands on his hips and glares, you hug your arms tighter around your midsection and double down, “No – he broke up with me, okay? So no motive. Eddie didn’t do this,”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know him,”

Callahan rolls his eyes, missing the hateful look you throw his way as he does.

Somehow you know nothing you say is going to matter when it comes to Eddie. They’ve already decided his guilt.

“Oh, you know him?” Callahan huffs sarcastically, “Okay, fine … since you know him, when’s the last time you saw him?”

Shit.

You bite the inside of your lip and fidget under his condescending gaze, knowing well enough that your answer is going to do nothing to help your case.

“… August.” You mumble.

He chokes a little and shakes his head, blinking rapidly like you’d said something outrageous… and honestly, it was a little outrageous, but you didn’t appreciate the attitude he had about it.

“Aug- August?” He splutters, “August.”

You breathe out slowly and nod.

“Yeah…”

“You’re telling me you haven’t seen him in eight months and you’re trying to — you’ve been broken up … for eight. Months. And you just come running at the first sign of trouble? You expect me to believe that?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

You stick him to the spot with a dour look.

“You don’t know much about the human heart do you, Officer Callahan?”

Behind him, you see Chief Powell cough to try and cover the laughter threatening to burst out of him.

He clears his throat when Callahan twists around to glare at him, and you take the opportunity to steal a glance at Wayne.

He’s like a caged animal, fidgeting, pacing – you assume he must have been the one to put in the 911 call. You can’t even imagine what he must have thought coming home and finding Chrissy like that in his living room, and now he’s got to worry about vouching for you?

Your heart thumps in your chest when your eyes meet and for lack of anything better to do, you offer him a subtle wave.

He shakes his head – not the time.

“So, how do I know you’re not just covering for Munson again?” Callahan says, bringing you back to the annoying moment you have found yourself in.

Your eyebrows jump and you feign innocence, gesturing to yourself like you could never imagine doing that two years ago at a party after they’d busted Eddie for possession and you’d made a scene to draw their attention so he could run away. You would never.

Officer Callahan narrows his eyes and crosses his arms,

“How do I know you’re not involved?”

In spite of yourself, your heart leaps into your throat. It’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard, but suddenly your brain is screaming – this is it, this is how we get arrested.

Luckily, Wayne immediately jumps up from the porch and tries to come to your rescue.

“Hey, no. She’s not—” He begins, but Officer Callahan cuts him off with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Munson, if we have any further questions for you we will let you know.” He sighs when what he really means is “go away”.

You clench your fist and resist the urge to knock that smug look off his face when he turns back to face you, looking very much like he’s caught you red-handed and is so pleased to have figured it out.

“So, here’s what I think happened.” Callahan begins,

This should be good.

“You said that Munson kid broke up with you? Okay, fine. So maybe he does, and he gets a new little girlfriend. And you’re jealous. You come to confront him, find her here, things go a little too far, bada-bing-bada-boom, poor Chrissy ends up dead."

You're fully aware of how you're gawping at him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He continues.

"And since you’re apparently such a good little girl you don’t want to ruin your reputation, so you take steps to make it look like he did it–”

You have to suppress the shudder that threatens to tear through your body at the concept of Officer Callahan referring to you as a “good girl”, even if it is done so under the guise of mocking Wayne.

Luckily your disgust is overwhelmed by the patent hilarity of what he is suggesting: you killed Chrissy and are trying to frame Eddie… yep… way too much true crime in Officer Callahan’s diet.

“Did you even see her?” You ask, “Look at me. How the hell do you suppose I did that?”

Callahan opens his mouth to respond and comes up short.

“...Forensics will get back to us on the cause of death after the autopsy…”

“Okay, fine. Riddle me this, Dick Tracy, if I was trying to frame Eddie, why would I be sitting here telling you he didn’t do it?”

Officer Callahan pulls a face.

“How do you know who Dick Tracy is?”

Then it’s your turn to pull a face. You’ve never missed Jim Hopper more than you do at this moment.

“Can you do me a favor and try to be a little less condescending while you’re accusing me of murder?”

Another cough from the chief of police to cover another laugh, it turns the tips of Officer Callahan’s pink.

“Alright, smart ass, you got an alibi? Because things aren’t looking so great for you right now. You’ve. Got. Motive,”

Each word is punctuated by his sharp prodding fingers poking you in the shoulder. You breathe out hard through your nose and swallow the rage boiling up from the pit of your stomach.

Trespassing is one thing, mouthing off is another, but you don’t need to be charged with assaulting an officer.

What follows is a rapid-fire back-and-forth volley of questions and answers, each one more charged than the last as you count the seconds ticking past, time wasted when you could be out there looking for Eddie.

“Where were you last night?”

“Benny’s.”

“Why?”

“I work there.” You huff, tugging at the skirt of your uniform.

Officer Callahan gives you a dismissive look, like he wants to argue but expressly cannot because you’re still wearing your nametag and your goddamn apron. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

“Can anyone confirm your presence there?”

It feels incredibly stupid to say, but only because of your crazy stupid luck – yes, there are in fact many people who can confirm your presence at the diner last night.

“The Hawkins Tigers.”

He gives you an incredulous look.

“The Basketball team?”

You nod, and very quickly you can feel him losing steam. Every single one of your answers thus far seems to have flummoxed Officer Callahan beyond his ability to comprehend.

He turns from you and crosses the grass to hold a hushed conference with Chief Powell. You watch them, struggling to try and read their lips as you stuff your hands in your apron pocket – you brush the sharp edge of the forgotten polaroid strip stashed there and curl your fingers around it.

You have to find Eddie.

They make you sit and wait another twenty minutes finally – finally – you hear the words that set you free.

“She’s just a dumb kid, send her home,”

You would protest the notion if you weren’t feeling so summarily stupid for this whole endeavor, but you’re just happy that the interrogation is finally ending.

With Powell’s prompting, another officer steps up to escort you out of the trailer park, much to Callahan’s chagrin. You can hear him begin to argue against it.

“Chief, I don’t think it’s such a good idea turning her loose.” He says, “I mean look at her. She probably knows exactly where Munson is hiding.”

“...No,” Powell says after considering it for a moment, “I don’t think so.”

Callahan shakes his head,

“I just think–”

Then the chief cuts him off.

“Maybe don’t think about it so much. She’s not going anywhere, right?” He says it loud enough for you to hear.

It’s not a question so much as an order, and he makes a point to stare at you, clearly waiting for your answer. You glance at Wayne, who at this point has moved to sit atop the nearby picnic table, chain-smoking to try and calm his nerves – he glances at you, then looks away.

You don't blame him.

Somehow, this suddenly feels like it’s all your fault, like it all traces back to that terrible night in August. You should have fought a little harder for Eddie, you shouldn’t have stayed away.

You turn your attention back to the officers, then finally you take one last parting glance at what you can see of poor Chrissy, still lying uncovered in the doorway.

There is a cold lump forming in the pit of your stomach, under the hard gaze of so many people, that same sense of impending doom slowly crushing down on you.

Somehow you manage to shrug.

“Of course not.” You say, “Where am I gonna go?“

To find Eddie, before anyone else can.

The officer escorts you off of the trailer park grounds and sends you on your way down the road and around the bend.

You scuff your feet in the dirt as you walk, the sounds from the trailer park steadily fading into the distance. You run your thumb over the sharp edge of the polaroid strip in your pocket until it hurts, using the unpleasant sensation to keep you grounded as your brain spins.

Where in the hell are you meant to start looking? Who might even know where he is? You don't know where Hellfire meets these days, or where the band practices, you don't know even who his friends are anymore. Adam and Gareth maybe? Jeff was always borderline with Eddie, you wouldn't be surprised to hear if they'd had a falling out. Maybe Dustin knows something, he's in Hellfire now, along with Mike and Lucas... but you can't imagine Lucas is even going to know his own name after last night so that rules him out...

It's an insurmountable task, finding Eddie, like trying to find a needle in a haystack that is gunning for said needle, but you don't have the option not to try.

Who else is going to do it if not you? You have to find him first.

A shrill whistle draws your attention and your head snaps up to the person jogging up the path to meet you.

Wayne.

You slow to a stop to let him catch up with you, half wondering how the cops ever let him follow you – surely that is a conflict of interest, letting witnesses speak to each other, but you barely have the time to give him a proper greeting.

“You haven't seen him, then?” Wayne asks quickly, his voice is hushed and tight. “You don't know where he is?”

The way he says it makes your chest hurt, like he'd spent a great deal of time and energy hanging all his hopes on the possibility that you might know where Eddie was, that he might even be with you.

Hadn't you been doing the same?

You shake your head, and it breaks your heart a little to have to disappoint him like that.

“No... but I’ll find him.” You say, your insides are knotted and squirming with anxiety — you don’t know how you’re going to find him, you just know that it’s going to be you who does.

It has to be you.

Relief passes over Wayne in a tangible wave as his shoulders drop and he stands a little taller.

You can’t imagine what he must be going through, what it must have been like to come home and discover that waiting for you in your doorway. You suddenly feel very stupid for how precious you’d been all day about having a nightmare while Wayne was living one.

You know perhaps better than anyone that Eddie is all he has – he can’t afford to lose him any more than you can.

Wayne sniffs and clears his throat, casting a wary look over his shoulder like he’s worried someone might be listening.

“Good — good.” He hums, like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s going to be alright, then he leans into you and drops his voice, “When you do, I want you two to go. Just… go. Take him and get out of town.”

It startles you. You don’t know what you’d expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. You know you must be frowning for the way he doubles down.

He fishes his wallet from his back pocket and flips it open, pulling a stack of bills from the fold and closing it in your hand. He squeezes your fingers tightly around the money.

“I don’t care where you go,” He says, shaking his head, “California, Timbuktu — it doesn’t matter, send me a postcard when you get there — you just find him and get him as far away from here as possible, you hear?”

It is too much to ask, you know he must know this – he’s asking you to leave your life behind, your apartment, your job, everyone you know.

For all the time you’ve known him, everything he’s ever done for you, Wayne has never asked you for anything, but he’s asking you now — that much you understand – he’s asking you to choose Eddie, in spite of everything.

It’s an easy decision to make.

You close your fingers over the money and nod, gritting your teeth to keep yourself steady as you watch Wayne’s eyes shine with tears.

“I will.”

He breathes a shaky sigh and blinks back the emotion, banishing it as quickly as it arrives.

You’ve never seen him like this — he is so afraid, and whether it is in response to the horror of what has already happened, in his home, to his family, or the uncertainty of what is going to happen, you cannot be sure.

The Munsons have already lost so much.

You have to find Eddie, if only so that you never have to see this look on Wayne’s face again.

His hand comes up to grip you by the shoulder then, and your spine stiffens under the directness of his gaze.

“Don’t leave him.” he says quietly. “Promise me you won’t leave him.”

You shake your head in defiance of the thought.

Never, you want to say, you would never leave him.

Why else would you still be here after everything that happened? But of course, he knows this, so you push forward and throw your arms around Wayne’s neck, startling him with the act of hugging him.

“I promise.” You say against his shoulder.

He hesitates, tensing ever so slightly. After a moment he pats you awkwardly on the back, and you take it as your signal to let the moment end.

Eddie always said the Munsons weren’t huggers.

Wayne sniffs and wipes his knuckles beneath his nose — he coughs.

“Okay,” he says gruffly, “Get going.”

Wayne nods towards the road and you follow his gaze. You know what he means; find Eddie, get out of town, don’t come back, and you can’t decide if the feeling welling up too big in your chest is fear or determination.

Your mind begins to work on its own, drawing a map of all the possible places you might find Eddie.

You can do this, you’re fine, it’s going to be fine.

When you turn, Wayne has already started back down the road, and you’re hit with the sudden and overwhelming urge to call out, to say something to somehow make things okay.

You wonder briefly if you're ever going to see him again.

“Wayne —” you call, he turns and glances back at you with big, watery eyes, “…I’m gonna find him.”

“I know, Sweetheart.” He huffs, “I'm counting on it.”

So, no pressure, right?

Taglist: @harrys-tittie @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @thicksexxualtensionaltension @ganseysgff @scoopsr0binn @peanutbutter-y-jams @audhd-dragonautagonaut @clilxlxx @alexandriaemily20 @averagestudent03 @but-vanessa @cosmictime45 @timelordfreya @forever-war @munsonzzgf @chervbs @irisabrams

#cruel summer #cruel summer fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #hilarious how i said i was going to cut this down and only ended up cutting 6000 words #oh well #all this is doing is getting me really excited to get to the fluff #because i'm fully planning a second sister fic to this one that is all the sweetness

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bootlegfrank · 2 months

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vry specific but. i want professional griefers verse gerard to get blackmailed with the fact he fucks his baby brother eue

Under the cut bcuz it's like 500 words, hope this was even remotely what you were looking for <3

Some things in life are expected, like taking on a match just because some guy called you a fag. Some things are not so expected, though, like taking on a match because you’re being threatened with blackmail.

It’s not just any blackmail, which is why Gerard accepted immediately, even though he knows he has no chance. He prides himself on being a good fighter, one of the best, but he’s aware he isn’t the best. He can win just about any match he sets his mind to, but this challenge might get the best of him. This guy has it out for him for some reason Gerard can’t figure out, but that reason doesn’t matter much, because he’s winning this match even if it’s the last thing he ever does.

The confrontation happened after his last fight, doped up on adrenaline and exhaustion after having just barely won, not paying as much attention as he should’ve. The guy came up to him when Gerard snuck behind his own trailer to smoke a cigarette, away from anyone who could’ve had any intention of starting a social interaction with him.

He’d sidled up to Gerard, pleased expression on his face when he told Gerard he had an offer he couldn’t refuse. Gerard had made a choked-off snorting sound at the guy, at the frankly ancient reference, which had apparently been the wrong move. The guy had taken no time at all to pin Gerard to the trailer, forearm pressed against his throat, and had growled at him to listen.

He’d told Gerard that he wanted to fight, a match under his conditions, and that Gerard would have no choice but to accept. The fear had started to set in then, the realisation that this wasn’t just some normal guy thinking he could beat the upcoming champion, this had a tinge of real danger.

Now Gerard is here, at the match, and he didn’t expect his opponent’s conditions would be… this. The operating booths look prehistoric, potentially homemade and held together by duct-tape solutions, nothing at all like the official UFC rings he’s grown accustomed to. There’s no safety either, the booths up on a riser just fifty feet away from the robots.

When the guy walks up to him, overconfident and underneath it all still surprised to see him, Gerard feels the deep of his stomach run cold. There’s no cameras, no crowd, only his blackmailer, and the realisation settling in. This isn’t a match for fame, a match for bragging rights, this is a death trap.

Still Gerard gets in the booth, still he grips the controller, still he thinks of his little brother and nods to the guy to start their match.

He hadn’t told Mikey, hadn’t said a word about where he was going, about the photos he got shown, about the threats that had been spoken to him. Mikey wouldn’t take hearing it well, would have his public appearance ruined if it came out, his career down the drain, everything he’d built up all for nothing, and Gerard can’t do that to him. It’s better if Mikey doesn’t know, it’s better if Gerard keeps this to himself, takes their shared secret down with him.

The robots whirr and creak, and Gerard swallows hard as he braces for the first hit.

#wanted to post these on ao3 but i have no clue what to tag this with because i have never once done anything with professional griefers #do we call him gerard or g3rard? i know nothing ever do not perceive me #waycest #professional griefers #gerard way #deadmau5 #asks #bootlegfrnk fanfiction

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angelicalchaoticabyss · 2 years

Note

Hello, can I ask for a self aware wind archer cookie with female reader?

(I'd like to apologize in advance if this is a little out of character, I don't play Ovenbreak but a friend has helped me out a bit so I hope you enjoy it!)

Protecting light.

It was dark…then light flooded his vision, Wind Archer Cookie fully came to. Where…where was he? Looking around he saw many other cookies looking at him, so many of different ingredients, sides and moralities. He was in a panic at first and going to fire an arrow at the closest dark cookie he saw before Millennial Tree Cookie put a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm yourself Wind Archer, no need for alarm. This is a safe place.”

It took a lot of convincing and reassurance that any of this was remotely okay and safe. But he trusted the great tree’s judgement.

He did all his best to assist in these strange missions, but if it led closer to the light winning over the dark and keeping the tree safe then he would do it. But as he ran, dashed through the winds and shot his arrows there was something…he couldn’t shake. He just felt this presence, following him everywhere. Even when he was around other cookies it was there, constantly.

He’d look around to see nothing, it made him suspicious and even a bit anxious. What was this?

Hmm… Surely it had to be another dark spirit! That’s what it had to be, and it was following him. To discourage him from his mission, to turn him back into the Night Raven. He wouldn’t allow that to happen! He had to inform the tree of this threat immediately!

“A threat? What kind of threat?” He asked.

“It has to be a dark spirit, I feel it everywhere, watching us. It feels so powerful, like it’s eyes are me whenever I am here or doing my tasks. We must do something!” He replied, alarmed and serious.

The tree took a second to think it over before chuckling and giving a warm smile.

“Fear not Wind Archer, I assure you these worries are unfounded. If something truly evil was watching us I would know about it. Please, try to relax, we’re in no danger.”

What the Millennial Tree said greatly confused him. No danger? That can’t be…but if there’s no threat…what is he sensing?

As time passed, he noticed he was growing considerably stronger, much more than what was normal for him. And this nagging feeling that something or someone was there only got stronger, finally one day he thought of one place left to look…the sky.

When his eyes peered upwards, they quickly widened at this blurry figure he could barely comprehend

“Who….who are you…?” He uttered but got no reply.

Now all that could fill his mind was this strange massive figure in the sky, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. It was so difficult to make out the details but over time started it gradually changed. The stronger he got the clearer the being was, the more he could hear…what he assumed to be them talking. And one day, when he woke up, he could fully see…you.

A girl.

You had an appearance he’d never seen before and to him….you were so beautiful. You shined in the sky as you controlled the world. Controlled him. Made him stronger. You…you were a glorious Goddess of Light! That’s what you had to be! And he…he had to keep darkness from touching you.

He was at max strength, and he did everything he could to make you happy. He loved listening to you speak, seeing you smile, seeing your face every day.

It made his heartbeat faster than the winds at the very thought!

Much time had passed, but…you showed up less and less. It wasn’t every day he’d see you, wasn’t everyday he’d have tasks from you to complete. It made him so worried, did he do something wrong? Did he upset you? Did he offend you? Did any of the others do something? Why are you seeing them less?

Then, it was dark. You…didn’t come back. Where…where did you go?! Are you lost in this darkness?! He has to find you! He NEEDS to protect you!

Without a second thought, and even against the Millennial Tree’s wishes, he wandered off into the darkness. He didn’t care how far he had to go, he was going to find you and protect you from the evil that wanted to harm you. Other cookies tried to join him, Gingerbrave, Strawberry, Wizard, Alchemist, Vampire, and many others. But one by one they all disappeared into the shadow, never to be seen again.

It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t give up. He’ll never give up until he finds you.

He kept walking, and walking, and walking.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he saw a light in the distance. In a burst of speed and desperation he ran towards it, hoping this light led to his lost goddess. The closer he got the hotter it was, the light he saw now was in the shape of a cookie cutter. Wind archer quickly jumped through and his vision turned white.

“Welcome back Wind Archer Cookie, you’re finally home! Yes!” Exclaimed a familiar voice.

Wind archer’s eyes snapped open as he looked about rapidly at his surroundings, he was in a cookie kingdom. Several cookies he knew ran up to greet and welcome him to his new home. Slowly…he looked up towards the sky, and with great joy he saw you smiling at him!

His light goddess, he finally found you again! You were safe after all!

You welcomed him home. Yes…he’s home. He’s finally home! He’s finally back with you and many of the others!

But…the fact you were here, was most important to him.

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hologramcowboy · 1 year

Note

You know Jensen is never going to fuck you. The man has more class in his pinky than you'll ever have in several lifetimes you absolute bag of garbage. Danneel wouldn't wipe her shoes on your pathetic ass. You seriously need to get mental help. You are unhinged and dangerous.

Do you need Jensen to "f***" you? Is that why you keep sending this same concept to everyone? If so, seek help. Jensen is married and has three children. He needs to focus on that and on taking care of the woman he impregnated, whether he meant to or not. It's disgusting that you would even remotely think sleeping with him is an option. The man doesn't compare in class to me and most of my friends and colleagues, he doesn't even open books and is oblivious to etiquette, especially that of his own industry. He also is less trained and schooled than me so who are you kidding? Yourself?

My as* happens to be more schooled, trained, beautiful and classy than Danneel's too, in fact, I'm beyond appreciated by highly valuable people. Not that that matters, whether good or bad feedback is just feedback and should never overcome someone's highest priorities. This is what it means to be self driven. Something you will never be as you depend on all people thinking the same way you do.

You are the unhinged one for being abusive. You are committing violence with your words over a couple of Z listers. You're probably too daft to even realize the gravity of your post and the horrible paragidms it is feeding into. Which means that you lack awareness. Truly sad.

Being classy is all about someone's soul, how cultured, elegant and emotionally intelligent they are not just what they studied or how much they own, by the way, you keep raising the profile of a bunch of functionally illiterate toxic celebrities and mob anyone who tends to point out they are mediocre. Danneel and Jensen are lovely in their own way but they will never be high class or high quality and the fact that you fail to understand that shows how disconnected you are from what you are trying to reference. Let me translate that for you: you know nothing about class and the fact that you hail Danneel as classy tells us everything we need to know about your level.

I strongly suggest you steer clear of my inbox and seek professional help.

"absolute bag of garbage" must be how you feel about yourself, I feel deeply sorry for how broken you are. So broken you are viciously trying to tear others down in the hopes of feeling better but mark my words, someday you'll cause someone's life to end with your vicious, disgusting soul so I strongly suggest you wake up and get the help you need instead of sending these type of asks which you can, by the way, be charged for.

Lastly, Jensen is endlessly kinder and smarter than you so please refrain from calling yourself a Jensen fan or mentioning his name since, clearly, all you care after is "f*****g" him (your words not mine). Using that word, by the way, is dehumanizing towards him as you are objectifying him. You are creepy, abusive and clearly psychotic since you are purposefully sending hate asks to create a certain outcome. You are not entitled to anyone's sense of self, wellbeing or value and people are free to have different views.

P.S.: Jensen will never sleep with you, no matter how many hateful, vicious mobbing attempts you make. In fact, he doesn't even know you exist and, even if he did, he would be majorly creeped out.

"You are unhinged and dangerous" Just curious, is "unhinged" the only word in your vocabulary? Do you even know what it means? Because it perfectly describes the message you sent in. There is absolutely zero dangerous about people enjoying harmless gossip or expressing opinions with like minded others. What is, however, truly dangerous and "unhinged" are people like you who purposefully and hatefully seek to target others through mobbing, cyberbullying, threats and other virtual offenses all because the person on the other end dislikes your show or actor. If you are looking for dangerous then please look in the mirror, you are inhumane.

As for your trashy, classless vocabulary, I strongly suggest you save it for those of your ilk, if you absolutely must use it.

#anti jenneel #anti jenneel stans #anti aas #anti elta cultish stannies

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darkspine10 · 6 months

Text

GF Fanfic - Critical Meltdown

Dipper and Mabel Vs. The Past (40,456 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 8/9

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up

Surrounded by a giant field of solar panels glistening in the evening sun stood a pair of conical grey towers. Out here in the desert they seemed a resolute fixture of the landscape. Pacifica wondered how long they would last. If humanity vanished tomorrow, how many centuries would pass before those circular towers crumbled into dust? How much longer still might the elements within, hidden in the core deep below, linger on as a persistent danger.

She read the name on the signs, ‘Rancho Seco Nuclear Generating Plant’. It seemed a remote spot, nearly 2 hours drive out from Piedmont and miles from the city centre. An odd place to end this. Rusting sirens stood on poles. They would be silent if anything dangerous happened.

She heard the screech of tires and saw the Mini pull up to the plant. Her husband practically fell out of the car, followed by Mabel, Zera, and his father.

Dipper looked immensely worn out. Making the round trip to pick up the others was the cherry on the cake of a very long day. He wasn’t the only one. Zera was wiped out from all the spellcasting and running around too.

Mabel seemed as peppy as ever though, bounding over to her mother and Merrise with a spring in her step. “Heya guys, how’ve you been? We went to the zoo!”

Merrise bounced on the spot. “Ooh, we went to this science museum place, and fought a dinosaur, and now I’ve got a toy dinosaur!”

“That’s great kiddo!” She turned to Pacifica, suddenly dropping her exuberance. “Any sign of tulpa number 3?”

“Not from out here. I haven’t stepped inside yet.” Pacifica lowered her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want Merrise going anywhere near a radioactive building.”

“You don’t have to worry about radiation,” Dipper said loudly, making it impossible for anyone not to hear. So much for sensitivity. “This place was decommissioned 50 years ago. The only active nuclear plant in the whole state is Diablo Canyon, south of the city.”

“So how’d you find this place?” Mabel asked, turning her head to look around and doing a 360 degree spin in the process. “There are no news crews anywhere. No anyone, in fact.”

“That’s where there might be a problem.” Dipper turned on his energy scanner. A large green pulse was flashing brightly on the map. Its location corresponded to where they were currently standing. “It’s possible the tulpa here is leeching power from some latent potential energy remaining in the core. Or maybe doing something with contaminated waste. Either way it’s not good. The tulpa could use the energy to manifest as something even more powerful than what we’ve witnessed so far.”

“They already did a convincing T-Rex,” Pacifica said, unimpressed. “How much bigger can you get?”

“I’m talking universal level threat.” He mimed an explosion by expanding his hands out in a wide area. “Something that won’t merely terrorise the city, but could destroy it instead!”

“Oh, so no pressure then,” Mrs Pines said. “I suppose the seven of us are going to walk right inside and save the world?”

“That sounds like the Pines MO,” Zera said. She was still slumped in the back of the car with her eyes half-lidded.

“I suppose, if no-one else is going to do it… it falls to us.” Mr Pines unexpectedly led the way towards the facility, with the others, besides Zera, following in lockstep. She stayed where she was to nurse her head, making a half-hearted thumbs up.

As nuclear plants go, the site was modest. Besides the two cooling towers there was a small main building, consisting of a bunch of functional square units with a squat cylindrical tower attached, resembling a grain silo. Behind was an electrical substation and pylons trailing off to the horizon. Over to their left, a row of storage unit sheds containing used fuel rods. A sign saying ‘trespassers are prohibited’ did nothing to stop them. As the sun went down, electric lamp posts automatically switched on, bathing them in a harsh artificial glare.

“A nuclear plant after dark, what a place for a mystery hunt,” Dipper said, his voice echoing slightly.

“Reminds me of that derelict hydro dam we went to once,” Mabel said. “There’s something eerie about a place that used to give power now sitting lifeless.”

“Don’t get poetic on us, May,” Pacifica said. “You can rhapsodise all about this place when we’re cosy and warm at home, sipping hot chocolate and unwrapping presents.” She shook her head. “What are our lives like? I mean, of all the places…”

Dipper pointed over the plains to the south. “There were actually some cryptid sightings near here once. There’s a lake and a park over there. People said they saw a ‘raptor’ flying above.”

“I remember that,” Mabel said, snapping her fingers. “We camped out by the lakeside and staked it out. Back in ‘21.” She poked her brother in the side. “You got bitten by sooooo many mosquitos that night.”

“That wasn’t long before the wedding,” Pacifica said, lost in thought. “Then we moved away from Mabel a short while after.”

“Dark days,” Dipper said jokily. “We never did find any raptor. At least this time our outing won’t be wasted. We know for a fact that the tulpa is here at the plant.”

“Dad, what is a nuclear power plant anyway?” Merrise asked, neck straining to look up at the cooling towers. Red LED lights shone around the rims of each, making them seem like the bastion of an evil fortress.

Mr Pines was the one to explain, glad to be able to provide something from his wheelhouse. “It uses the splitting of high-mass elements to generate heat, which causes water to turn into steam and rotate a turbine to produce electricity. Like… a really big water wheel, essentially.”

“Cool,” Merrise said. Though she didn’t always get overly excited by science topics, she still had a voracious desire to understand more about how the natural world worked.

“This one isn’t doing anything though,” Mabel said, scoffing. “They should have never built it in the first place.”

“Oh yeah, cause it’s so totally dangerous to the environment.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Well it is!”

“Only if you buy into the anti-nuclear propaganda”

“You’ll be the one regretting it if a place like this melts down and makes half of California unlivable.”

“Just so long as you admit that you’re encouraging a return to fossil fuels if you bash nuclear!”

“Can you two shut up for a second?” Pacifica hissed. “Debate later, when the city isn’t at risk.”

Merrise raised an eyebrow at the twins. “I thought you two were meant to have some super special, epic sibling bond or something like that?”

“Oh, we do,” Mabel said. “Sibling relationships are just like this. It’s not always sunshine and roses. What, you think we never argue? Never want to have our side heard?”

“I believe it,” Pacifica said, “I’ve got two decades of first hand experience of you two bickering.”

“I’ve got three,” Mrs Pines gleefully added.

“The point is,” Mabel said, returning to her niece, “is that we may disagree and have differing views… but we’re still family. We still love each other, no matter how much we drive each other up the wall. I keep forgetting, none of you guys ever had any siblings. Even Z, who had a crazy amount of tadpole siblings, doesn’t count.”

“It’s like having a ‘default friend’,” Dipper said. “We’re so close, but we also know exactly how to drive each other mad. We share a bunch of family in-jokes and memories that’s hard for anyone else to appreciate, even with you, Paz.”

Merrise thought for a moment. “I guess then we’ll have to act like a family now. So we can all know what that’s like. Like you said before. Family traditions can start whenever we want to make some.”

Dipper smiled, proud of his daughter’s initiative and desire to heal their fractious family make-up one way or another. He glanced at his parents, walking ahead along the silent alley. He resolved to reconcile with them as soon as possible, so they could put the whole sorry lying business in the past for good.

To no-one’s surprise the doors to the reactor building were locked. A metal chain and padlock were slung across. Mr Pines pushed it to no avail. “Oh well, guess we’ll have to go home. He gave a weak laugh that nobody else reciprocated and it died in his throat. “Worth a shot.”

“Step back everyone, I’ve got this.” Mabel smugly pushed through to examine the doors. She squinted and focused with her glasses, before standing up and wiping her hands. “Oh, this’ll be easy. I won’t even have to pick the lock.” From her jacket pocket she removed a pair of wire clippers and snipped the rusting chain. The padlock clanked to the ground. “Voila!”

“I’m constantly amazed by the stuff you happen to be carrying,” Pacifica said, shaking her head.

“I always carry wire clippers with me. Usually bolt cutters and a couple of spray cans too.” Mabel shrugged. “Never know when you have to do an impromptu bit of political activism.” She pushed the double doors open and peered into the dark gloom.

Dipper switched on his flashlight and entered the reception area. There was a smell of dry must, as well as a clinical antiseptic scent. They’d probably sprayed the whole place down to reduce any chance of leakage or waste. His scanner showed the same bright pulse, but it was once again poor at giving him the fine detail needed to pin down the tulpa. He turned off the tracking feature and extended twin aerials on either side of the boxy device. It instantly started making a constant clicking noise. “Geiger counter reading is looking alright, only a little above background. Even though this place isn’t too big I think we should stick together for now. That way we won’t accidentally go anywhere with higher risk levels.”

“And you’re still sure Merrise should be in here?” Mrs Pines asked. “Might it be worth her going back to wait by the car?”

“I don’t want to go.” Merrise said, frowning. “This is a family adventure.”

“I’m being conscious of your wellbeing, my dear. It’s not even something out of the ordinary. Radiation poisoning is no laughing matter.”

“She knows the risks,” Dipper said absent-mindedly. “It’s dangerous, but if Pacifica and I are willing to stick our necks out then nothing we say can stop Merrise tagging along. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“I suppose child endangerment is what you’re used to,” she said sharply. “You said it yourself, you started out so young.”

“That’s… that’s not important right now,” he mumbled. Resting his flashlight in the crook of his neck he shone it down at Journal 9 while he sketched a rough layout of the facility. “Ok, there’s the parking lot, cooling towers over here.” He drew two circles off to the right side. “Main entrance here, reactor core should be… there.” In an empty space at the middle of his drawing he marked a cross.

“Seems the most likely spot,” Mabel said. “Let’s go

“Then we have to deal with that Errata guy,” Pacifica added, a sour look on her face. It had already been a long enough day and she didn’t relish the idea of dealing with yet another cryptid on the loose.

The group passed through a series of functional grey corridors, only briefly shining their lights into side rooms and moving on. Dipper kept adding to his map, drawing more lines at every junction they went by. At the next turn he abruptly went left. They entered a large control room, with banks of dusty computers along the walls and ranks of freestanding consoles. A window running the length of the far wall looked down onto the reactor core itself. Walkways crisscrossed a large hall with empty circular pits.

“Most of the components were stripped out ages ago,” Dipper said. “The power generating equipment was all removed, the control rods, and the turbines. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission made sure to clean it all too, before you ask, Mabel, so in theory it should be safe.” His geiger counter was still ticking away at the same rate.

“Hmm, I’m still not convinced,” Mabel said, peering through the window. Given her poor eyesight she wasn’t able to make out much. “There must be something, or else why would the tulpa come here?”

“Fair point.” Dipper shone his light down into the reactor area but it barely made a dent in the enclosed darkness. “It makes you sad, doesn’t it? This place used to harness the power of the atom to create incredible amounts of power. Now it’s a husk.”

“Doesn’t make me sad,” Pacifica said. “It’s just a grimy industrial hole in the ground and I’d rather we don’t stick around chatting all evening and got the hell out of here.”

“Right right, let’s stay on mission.” He laid out his journal on the nearest desk and the others huddled around to look. Dipper’s finger slid along the page. “There are two passageways that lead down there, one on each side of the complex leading from this control centre. I recommend we break into two groups and meet again in the middle. Since the core’s likely the most likely place for the tulpa to be hiding, and also probably has the highest chance of radiation. I'm going to take a page out of your book, Mom. Merrise, I want you to stay up here, and before you argue,” she’d already opened her mouth to complain, “you can still help. From here you can watch everything that goes on down there and warn us if there’s trouble. The lights outside had electricity, so there should be an intercom.”

He hurried around the consoles, but his father found the microphone first. He clicked the button and they heard a quiet feedback sound from the main chamber.

“Good good,” Dipper said. “Now, Pacifica, I know you’ll hate me for this, but I want you to stay up here and look after Merrise.”

“What, and play babysitter while you go down there?”

“If my hunch about the core is wrong then we need someone to watch our flank if the tulpa shows up where we aren’t expecting it.” He put his palm on her cheek. “You and Merrise are our backup if something goes wrong.”

Pacifica clutched his hand and kissed it. “When you put it like that… don’t be reckless down there.”

“Hey, you know me. As long as I don’t eat any uranium rods I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He flashed a crooked grin and she giggled.

“Go on, get out of here and finish this.”

“I’ll go with Mom down the right corridor,” Mabel said. “You take Dad a go around the other way.”

Dipper nodded and both he and his sister strode out of the room. Mr and Mrs Pines shared an uneasy look before following their respective children out. “Relax,” Pacifica called after them. “It’s only a monster that can turn into any other monster in the multiverse, sitting on top of what could turn into a ginormous ticking time bomb. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Ignore her,” Dipper said to his dad. “She’s trying to lighten the mood the way only Pacifica can.”

“You can sure pick ‘em,” Mr Pines replied.

They were only a few feet down the corridor when the air was split by an ear-piercing shriek. “Pacifica!” Dipper cried. “Dad, stay here.” He immediately bolted back down the corridor. When he got back to the control room he bumped into Mabel who’d had the same idea. They found Pacifica cowering in the corner, while Merrise was in hysterics. She pointed to the corner of the room, where a mass of cobwebs were tangled up. “I walked right into it!” Pacifica said, stamping her feet.

Mabel dropped down onto her front and watched a spider scuttling along the floor. “Aw, poor cutie.” She held out her finger and let the arachnid crawl over her fingers. “That tickles.” She set the spider down over by the webs and let it wander off. “You were scared of that tiny thing, Paz?”

“I wasn’t expecting it ok! It got in my hair! It’s not mutated is it?”

“Nope. Looks perfectly average. The girl who’s fought demons one-on-one can’t handle a small bug. Wow.”

Dipper coughed into his fist, “Moth.”

Mabel screamed and leapt to her feet. “WHERE? KILL IT!” The look of amusement on everyone’s faces made her straighten. “Uh, I mean. Wooh. Crazy.” She cupped her hands together then pointed down the corridor. “Let’s… let’s keep going.”

“Wait!” They turned to Merrise, face and palms right up against the glass. Down in the reactor room Mr and Mrs Pines each emerged from either side.

“They went on without us,” Mabel said, furrowing her brow.

“That’s why!” Merrise pointed but they’d all seen it. Following Mr and Mrs Pines into the room were two shimmering golden humanoids. They were short, only children. Dipper was confused. Where were the terrifying enemies, the cosmic entities hellbent on destruction that the tulpa would surely have turned into?

The two tulpas had taken the shape of a boy and a girl. The boy had a baseball cap and wore a sleeveless vest and shorts, while the girl’s colourful woollen sweater was hard to miss. Dipper had been wrong. The tulpa didn’t want the energy in this place to turn into something powerful. It needed the vast sums of energy to create another emotional connection, similar to his own repressed internal turmoil at the golf course. The tulpa had turned into perfect replicas of the Pines twins, circa 2012.

Zera’s eyes flipped open. She’d managed to drift off peacefully in the car. The lights from the plant hadn’t reached her and it was perfectly pitch black in the desert. Or it had been. A bright light made her cover her eyes and sit up. The glare was covering the entire plant and its surroundings in a diffuse halo. It wasn’t a golden illumination, as the tulpas and their creator had been. It was a harsher, lifeless light, like the glow of a distant forest fire over the horizon. An unholy aura.

Zera didn’t know what was causing the sudden luminance, but she knew it couldn’t be a good sign. She was worried it was radioactive in some way. That was silly though. Radiation didn’t actually glow like in a cartoon. It was an invisible, insidious killer. This must be related to the tulpas.

A dark shape flew past the car and she turned her head to catch it. Her mouth dropped open as she recognised the four-legged, top-heavy monstrosity lurching towards the main reactor building. “Oh May. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Mary? What are we doing? I’m not so sure this was a good idea.”

“Me neither. But what else are we supposed to do?”

They’d each seen a tulpa manifesting in the hallway, taking on the almost cherubic representations of their children. The children beckoned Mr and Mrs Pines onwards. Since they had no clue how to fight back they’d not demurred, and let the creatures guide them. Once all four of them were in the reactor room, the tulpas stood side-by-side and faced the parents. They each held one hand aloft, casting an ominous light to outshine the feeble flashlights. It enveloped the chamber, blocking all vision from the outside. Since then the tulpa twins had stood lifelessly in the reactor hall, staring vacantly ahead. They were like clockwork automatons waiting for the strike of noon.

Up in the control room, blinded by the glare, Pacifica and Merrise tried desperately to come up with answers. “We’ve gotta do something!” Merrise said, throwing her arms down in frustration. “This is a control room, right? Can’t we do anything from up here? I don’t know, turn off the power, stop the reactor. Control rods, those are a thing, right?”

“That’s just it, there are no controls.” Pacifica slammed a fist on the nearest console, which resounded with an echoing clang. “Like Mason said, all the power regulating machines are already gone. There shouldn’t be anything down there that’s capable of generating energy, let alone allowing us to switch it off!” Even the intercom had proven useless, giving nothing but static. Whatever the tulpas were doing to shine such a bright glow was also blocking radio waves too.

“That light, it hurts to look.” Merrise shielded her eyes with her hand and tapped the glass overlooking the floor below. “This is like bulletproof or something. They’re my grandparents!” Merrise said, on the verge of tears. “We’ve gotta be able to do something.”

“It’s up to the twins now.” Pacifica set her lip in a resolute line, determined not to show any fear in front of her daughter. “Why does it always have to fall on their stupid shoulders?”

That, as a matter of fact, was what Dipper was thinking at that same moment, creeping along the corridor to the reactor. He had no plan, no backup magic artefacts or clever tricks to win the day. He had his journal, his sister, and a fleeting hope his parents weren’t about to be disintegrated in a ball of fiery death.

Mabel ran up to the door to the room where her parents were. She pressed herself against the door, commando style, readying her gauntlet and squaring her shoulders. She nodded to Dipper as if expecting him to match her stance. He simply walked up to the door and shoved it open. Forget surprise; the tulpas must know they were coming.

He thought it would be burning hot inside but found all heat was being leached from the air. As they passed through the blazing nimbus of light the twins’ eyes adjusted quickly. It was like being underwater, the light speckling in bands which caught dust beams suspended in the air. “Mom, Dad!” Mabel yelled.

The tulpas and their parents were in the heart of the power plant, the eye of the storm where the light dimmed to acceptable levels to stare without squinting. Mr and Mrs Pines didn’t seem aware of the real twins outside the core, and hadn’t heard Mabel’s calls.

“Finally.” The multi-faceted voice ricocheted into the twins’ ears. The doors leading to the opposite corridor exploded off their hinges. The twins ducked. Swooping in was the enormous four-legged chimaera they’d last seen downtown. He was flying via a pair of wings that had sprouted out of the bark on his back. Each flapping wing was made of a tight coil of paper strands, brown and weathered, covered in scrawl from multiple writers.

Errata hovered above the tulpas and then set himself gently behind them. He held out his arms as if beckoning Mr and Mrs Pines forwards, like an evangelical preacher welcoming his flock. “Oh, that is good!” He primarily sounded like Dipper now, blocking out most of the other voices vying for dominance in the beast’s throat. “One happy family, back together. Isn’t that how it should be?”

Mabel ran towards her parents but came up against the wall of light. She pushed against the translucent barrier, finding herself repelled. “Don’t hurt them! Dipper, do something!”

“I- I don’t know what to do.” From out here the tableau within looked as still as the surface of an undisturbed lake. Neither the fantastical creatures or his parents were moving in the slightest. He reached out with his fingers and brushed the edge of the light core. To his astonishment they passed through the outer barrier.

Mabel watched him intently, then patted her brother on the back. “Dipper, it has to be you!”

“What, why me? You’re a part of this too, we both lied.”

“It’s not about that anymore. Dipper, don’t you get it? Errata, he’s a reflection of you more than anyone else. Think about it. Ford started the journals, sure, but you’ve written the most! You made them your entire life, devoted yourself to mysteries and adventures. You can break through. I believe in you, bro.” She hugged Dipper, then gently guided him towards the core.

As he’d anticipated, he passed through without resistance. The light parted like a curtain to let him approach. “Plus it was your decision to lie in the first place!” Mabel shoved Dipper the rest of the way through the light barrier. “You got this Dip! No backsies!”

“Hey, Mabel! Not fair!” He stumbled and nearly fell over until he righted his sense of balance. He looked forward and swallowed hard. “Oh crap.” The tulpas and his parents had turned to look at him with unanimous blank expressions. Dipper almost felt like laughing when he saw the copies of himself and Mabel up close. Him with his hat down firmly over his forehead, still mired in embarrassment about the birthmark that nowadays he considered nothing more than a fun quirk. Mabel’s purple sweater with a doofy cat wasn’t so different from something she’d still wear, but Dipper recognised the specificity. Both twins looked exactly as they had on the day Dipper had found Journal 3 in the woods. They were unchanged, a snapshot of innocence from that warm summer’s day 17 years ago.

His first thoughts were on practical matters. Ignoring his parents he fixed his glare on Errata’s starry face. The chimaera seemed to be smiling, though as always it was hard to discern. “First things first,” Dipper said. “I want to know how you harnessed the radiation. I’ve no idea where it’s coming from, but I demand you stop. Every second I spend bantering with you we’re all getting irradiated. I’d prefer if my parents didn’t end up mutated. Plus Pacifica and I have already dealt with enough infertility issues to last a lifetime, thank you very much.”

Dipper thought irreverence would be the easiest way to project his authority. Errata didn’t care. He gave a small grunt and shrug of the head that Dipper took to be a laugh. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” Dipper frowned at the perceived insult, both to him and the rest of his family. “There is no radiation.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped open. “But how-“

“Easy. I fed off the symbolic energy of this building.” Errata swept his hands around the room. A faint ectoplasmic glow appeared to hover off the walls before fading. “After you dealt so efficiently with the chaos I’d sown across the city, I was ready to embrace the lurking power. This place is practically drowning in…” Errata sniffed, “significance. All those technicians working here, they couldn’t help but express the way the world thought about it. The totemic fear, cracking the atom, the scientist’s dream of ultimate power. Of course it seeped into the very foundations of the brickwork! Then when it was abandoned it grew to an even greater significance. An enduring relic of man’s folly, of a path science went down before being treated as a dead end. I couldn’t resist the ritual of it all.”

“And now your tulpas are done harvesting all the energy up.”

“Not quite, you still have something of mine.”

Dipper felt in his pocket and found the two tulpas they’d caught, still locked in the form of the amulet and key. Seeing no other option, he held the objects out for Errata to take. He passed one each to the twins’ tulpas, handing the amulet to Mabel and the key to Dipper. It was then that the real Dipper realised the significance of the items. They’d managed to collect each others’ items, but it didn’t matter. These were in fact the very first artefacts the twins had acquired on their adventures, even if only temporarily in the amulet’s case. Dipper even still had the real President’s Key, framed back home.

Dipper slapped his forehead. “I should’ve realised sooner. You’re empathic. I’ve met a few empaths before. All those complicated foreign emotions swirling around must be enough to drive you mad.”

“Very nearly, boy. But I like the aftertaste of discord, the bitter swill of recriminations, smothered sentiment and… regret. Oh, how it feeds me. I was born in the crucible of lies and now it nourishes my soul!”

Dipper stood his ground and scowled. “Don’t think you can scare me. I’ve faced all kinds of psychic assaults. Dream demons who think they know me, regression to past events, I’ve seen it all. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh, I don’t want your fear, at least not this tawdry primal stew.” The chimaera’s paper wings swept down to surround Dipper’s parents, who remained oddly unresponsive. “No no no, not the shakiness of terror, the risk of physical hurt, even the potential harm to your loved ones. It’s all part of the game to you. The fear I want is much richer. It’s the fear that people could find out your secret: that you get off on all this.”

Dipper began to sweat and dropped his prepared stance. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Errata snapped his finger, bringing Mr and Mrs Pines back to life.

“Dipper? What’s going on, where are-” Mr Pines gazed up to see Errata towering above him.

“Hi there,” Errata said wickedly. Pacifica’s tone of voice had floated to the top of the pile.“You’re a sick, dirty little addict. Mason ‘Dipper’ ’Ursus’ Pines. You and your sister, sneaking out at night, skipping school, repressing everything. How scrumptious it will be when those emotions come pouring out!”

Mrs Pines began to whimper. “He’s trying to make things worse, don’t listen to him.” Dipper’s parents tried to run free, but the wings kept them surrounded in a cruel embrace.

“Stop it!” he yelled, pushing forwards.

“Not yet.” Errata held out a single one of his six fingers and held Dipper back by the forehead. “Let’s have more of that juicy turmoil hidden behind your astronomical ego. Get the pun?” Dipper shoved the finger away from his birthmark but Errata had another trick up his sleeve.

“Boy, I can’t believe we defeated all those gnomes!” The tulpa of Mabel had spoken, and Dipper knew it was his reflection’s turn next.

“Who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked thanks to this journal!” The copy sounded so eager, so carefree. He was ready to deceive his own parents if it meant there wasn’t even the slimmest chance of losing this new window of opportunity. Both of his parents could see this for themselves, giving disappointed glances at the golden twins, at least when not being intimidated into silence by Errata’s freakish thuggery.

The chimaera himself seemed overwhelmed with pleasure. “Oh, that’s decadent. Who knew one measly human boy could generate such drama.”

“Shut up!” Dipper shouted, surprising Errata. Defiance wasn’t an emotion he’d been expecting. “I’ve had it up to here with your petty taunts! Forget it. I don’t care if my parents don’t approve of my life. I’m an adult, I’ve got a family and responsibilities that I chose, alright. This doesn’t define anything anymore.” Dipper opened Journal 9 and held it for all to see. “Haven’t you got the memo yet, Errata? My parents have all the time in the world now to get to know me and my secrets. You said you were an open book? Well I’ve got dozens of the things lying around at home.” Errata was stunned into silence, and Dipper couldn’t tell if it was from his outburst or the sudden severing of his precious food source.

Dipper looked down from the irrelevant monster and approached his parents. “Yes, Mom, Dad. I lied. I did it because I wanted to have it both ways.” He pointed at his 12-year old self. “I could be ‘Dipper the investigator’, ‘Dipper the cryptid expert’, ‘Dipper the romantic hero’, and still come home and be ‘Mason the ordinary kid’.”

“Oh Dipper.” His mother knelt down and hugged him. “You could have told us and not had to hide any part of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he said, lightly hugging back. “Try telling that to me back then. You might not have understood, even if someone like Ford tried to explain it. There were times that first summer where I thought I couldn’t trust Grunkle Stan, or Mabel, or even my own doppelgangers. The idea of someone who didn’t even know the first thing about magic accepting it off the bat seemed laughable.” He rubbed his neck. “And if we’re being honest, I never really had any friends before that summer. I was a nerd, with freaky forehead acne. Then I found people I could relate to, who lived and breathed weirdness. I didn’t want to lose them as much as the actual adventures.”

Dipper sniffed, and Mr Pines put a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Hey now, we might not get all of this craziness, but we still love you son. None of this can change that. I mean, it’s not like you turned out to be hiding something bad about yourself, is it?”

“Exactly!” His mother was smiling now, almost forgetting where they were. “We never knew you had such a capacity to draw and write, in such detail.”

“Yeah, those tulpa things could only be so accurate if the source material already was, right? Lifelike doesn’t even begin to cover it! Then there’s Mabel, doing all those fancy spells. I never thought my little girl had it in her! Or Zera, she leapt into action to save us, near-strangers. If that isn’t heroic I don’t know what is.”

“And what about little Merrise, who was so brave to endure so much. If you hadn’t told us the truth we’d never know har far you’d all come.”

“And Pacifica, she… did we learn anything new about Pacifica, Mary?”

“I don’t think so.“ His parents laughed. “Well she’s a wonderful person as well, I’m sure she’ll be a great mother to Wendy and Merrise.”

“Thanks,” Dipper said, smiling and holding back tears. “It means a lot, to hear all that from you after so long.”

“C’mon Dipper!” Dipper looked up. Errata was frozen with a pensive expression. The tulpa of Mabel was leading her brother away. “Let’s go find another adventure in Gravity Falls.” The echoes of the twins wandered away, past Errata, before disappearing into the light. A cascade of golden energy flowed into Errata a moment later, but he didn’t react.

“I think I get it now,” he said, with an almost eerie calmness. He stumbled on his hind legs as if drunk. “I thought the potential of that trapped doubt and guilt was all I needed. But this, this cocktail of missed opportunity and exuberant acceptance, a new beginning… It’s a heady mix.”

“It’s an all new flavour of emotion. I like it too,” Dipper said softly. Errata smiled, and for the first time it wasn’t in a mocking way.

His brutish hands were almost graceful as they reached out to a sunbeam, catching falling dust motes in his palm. “Here I was thinking I knew you Dipper Pines. Perhaps I only knew your imprint. All your years jumbled together on the pages of the journals. None of them could quite capture who you are in the present.”

Dipper noticed the mood around them had subtly changed. There was a satisfying warmth in the reactor room, and the light was no longer harsh to the eye. It was a pleasant orange, like the light of a roaring campfire or a homely hearth. Dipper saw his sister waving, back by the entrance. She could tell something positive had taken place.

Errata creaked as he stretched out his trunk neck. “Thank you. For showing me there can be other paths. Perhaps we will meet again, and I can return the favour.” Errata stood in place, but the room began to shake.

Dipper was the first to cotton on to what was about to happen. He took his parents by the hand and backed away from his indirect creation, offering a grin of support before turning to leave.

“What the heck is-” Mabel was cut off as Dipper ran past, adding her hand to the list and dragging her away. Sprinting out, they stopped in the control room for only a second.

“Time to go guys,” Dipper said to Pacifica and Merrise, who looked relieved to see them all unharmed. The quakes became more violent, knocking over desks and computers, which let off a flurry of electrical sparks.

Dipper spared only a single glance down into the reactor. The light was building in intensity again. Errata was blurred and indistinct. Dipper lingered until he became completely obscured, and was the last to run out of the main block after his family. They continued to run until they reached the parking lot. Zera was standing outside the car, mouth agape watching as the entire plant shone like the sun.

A sudden gust of air blew inwards toward the reactor, dimming the light as it went. The Pines family watched in amazement as there was sudden implosion, with all the light focusing into one point at the centre of the plant before shooting upwards like a searchlight’s beam straight up into the night sky. The roof of the reactor room blew outwards, sending concrete walls catapulting away. Amongst the devastation, Dipper smiled when he saw a brief vision of Errata, racing away into the stars up above.

Then it was all over. The light dissipated, the earth was still, and the danger was over. They all let out deep breaths of relief and looked around at each other, celebrating the fact they’d survived together.

“It’s over.” Mrs Pines had spoken. Her gaze was fixed on the sky. “Where-”

“It’s not important,” Dipper said. “He’s nothing anymore. Merely a footnote. What’s really important is the story we write next.” He showed his parents the cover of Journal 9, with the same starry pattern as Errata’s face. It glimmered in the half-light of the moon. Dipper looked expectantly at the two of them. “So? What do you say? Want to add your own touch?”

His parents shared only a short look, before taking Journal 9 and turning it to the latest blank page. Marc and Mary Pines would be the latest in a long line to lend a small part of themselves to the ever expanding tapestry started in Gravity Falls so many years ago.

“Great, world’s saved again,” Zera yawned. “Now can we please go home and get some sleep?”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #mabel pines #dipper and mabel's parents

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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I, too, find this theory bizarre because A) how would Koschei have done that and 2) why would e/riel be a threat to him?

Maeve is the only character who’s messed with a bone, and she did that by breaking into other fae’s minds, with extraordinary skill. Nothing about Koschei is even remotely similar? While we don’t know much about Vassa and the others he has trapped, we know he hasn’t messed with their minds because Vassa is very much aware of him, what he’s doing, and actively working against him/to free herself. If Koschei were messing with Elain, Azriel and Lucien, they why wouldn’t he have a tighter grip on Vassa, too? Why would he allow her to plot and scheme, and live with the BoE? Feysand showed that the mating bond cannot be destroyed, nor even messed with in ACOMF/ACOWAR. If the very present, strong smelling Elucien bond were fraudulent, that would be an extraordinary work of magic which would have surfaced/been tied to Koschei in other parts of the story. But as it stands, it’s just Vassa and the girls at the lake. Brillyan was the one hoodwinking others, and very clearly so. There’s nothing to support the feasibility of Koschei messing with or faking a mating bond. Koschei cursed vassa =/= he’s instilled a fake mating bond for elucien.

And then two, what, exactly, is so threatening about E/riel? We already know Az either doesn’t trust or doesn’t allow Elain to put herself in danger. So how could their pairing be a threat to anyone? Oh no, the spymaster and his lover who he keeps secrets from and doesn’t allow to participate in grave tasks! We’re done for! I’ve seen this theory before (as backstory for how E/riel will get a rowaelin retelling despite the fact that elucien already have it) and it’s just so unserious. E/riel is not a pairing who’ve shown that they can and would work together—and by work together, I mean actually work against Koschei together. Elain couldn’t have given a shit about Azriel’s bloody and broken wings in ACOWAR, Azriel couldn’t have given a shit about her desire to find the trove in ACOSF, and both of them have not shown that they can communicate openly with each other. The closest they got was when Elain said “please” when Azriel tilted her head up in the bonus. Outside of that? Casual jokes, conversations about the garden and…that’s it. Not exactly the type of intimacy a unit would need in combat/on a mission. Certainly not the intimacy we’ve seen in Feysand, Nessian, The Valkyries, hell even Feyre and Lucien were more open with each other immediately after Feyre destroyed the spring court and they were on the run from Lucien’s brothers. Can we be so for real—E/riel have displayed absolutely NOTHING to even hint that their union would or could mean the end for Koschei.

🧼💖 and bc I just cannot ✋🏾

Happy Holidays 🧼💖!!! Are you celebrating with family tomorrow? I was happy to see your tag this morning. I find it a bit baffling when people claim Elain and Az have had all sorts of deep, connecting conversations with one another behind the scenes. A. Why would that make any sense? For them to have these moments that prove they've been falling in love when we, the readers, aren't even witness to those moments? That's the entire point of a romance story, is it not? To fall in love at the same time as the couple. B. If that's the theory they're subscribing too then couldn't we say the exact same about Elucien? That all those times Feyre mentioned she was leaving them alone to "talk", they had a conversation about how she just needs time but after she "sows" her wild oats a bit they'll revisit the idea of their bond? That she told Lucien that she's not ready for anything serious just yet and to give her time? Of course I don't think that happened but we could literally make anything up about what went down "behind the scenes" to suit our narrative. Because if that were the case, Elain wouldn't still be hesitant around Lucien and she also wouldn't be shy or have her hands shaking around Azriel. He wouldn't have mentioned that he purposely avoids spending time with her. He wouldn't have commented that she has no idea the things he does. I don't think anything major has happened off page and the things we need to know right now are the things that we've been able to read about. And you made SUCH a good point. Az has never shown any interest in training Elain, encouraging her to handle dangerous situations, etc. Even Cassian was trying to get Nesta to train as early as ACOWAR. Have we ever seen Az suggest that for Elain? And what exactly do Elain and Azriel offer together that would be a threat to Koschei? Spying on him and torturing information out of him? There's nothing about that pairing that jointly creates a concern for him. And I know Koschei made that comment that "he's spent so many months preparing for you" but to me that is less about Azriel then Cassian ( considering Koschei then says "You fell for it rather easily, though you took your time making contact. I thought you'd rush in for the kill, brute that you are" and then he seizes locks up Cassian's muscles so Briallyn can take him. Then he lets Az free. So to me, Azriel never really had anything to do with Koschei. It was always about grabbing Cassian to use against Nesta. At this point, the connection to Koschei is Vassa which leads to Lucien which leads to Elain based on all the hints in SF. Yet E/riels will create an entire storyline to make it about Elain and Az when there are ZERO hints that they together have ties to Koschei while ignoring the text that it's actually Elucien.

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pog2 · 2 years

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PQV City became a ruin after the 4th world war - a large-scale war that affected neighboring countries of developing countries at that time. This is a war that is mainly artificial intelligence, it seems that artificial intelligence has surpassed human control. Now, humans have to live in abandoned houses to hide from the robots that are hunting them. Nothing was ever the same after the war. Now humans are reduced to scavengers, cowering in caves and trashed houses, praying that they will not be next. But then the robots come. Families, torn apart by the war are destroyed further by the sound of the guns and the scream of neighbors. Survivors do not mourn the deaths, instead finding guilty relief in the fact that they can live to see another day. No longer are humans an apex predator. They have become the prey. The hunters have become the hunted. But, on a remote tropical island, the humans here fear something far more dangerous. Something that robots don’t even know of. Something far more ancient than our race itself. The survivors that escape are scarred, nearly mauled to pieces. They try to tell their doctors “raptor.” This… is the age of robotics versus superorder Dinosauria, past versus future, deadly snipers versus the true apex predators. Deep in the Pacific Ocean, however, is the true threat. Those who have seen it describe it as a gigantic black lizard, large enough to greatly surpass the height of a megalosaurus, larger than a blue whale. It had spines that look like fractals, and they glowed electric blue. It rose from the sea, seemingly reclaiming its territory after so long. They say you k annot esc a pe this j igantic creat u re. It is called the king of monsters, the god of whatever—dueILLAdfrdsz. The people of the island were joyful before it happened. They were the only ones to have reached the place robots wouldn't dare tread. They didn't know why robots refused to enter their territory. Their ignorance was their downfall. Something even the robots could be scared was lurking far below, patiently waiting for the day that it could roam the earth above once more. Then it broke free. The first one to see it thought it was a god, sent to free them from their robotic oppressors. Then it ate him. It pillaged and burned, destroying places once thought to be safe. Humans called it "Godzilla" after ancient movies from peacetime, relics of a time before. Robots called it "01000101 01110110 01101001 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 01101100 01101001 01111010 01100001 01110010 01100100 01101100 01101001 01111010 01100001 01110010 01100100" which directly translates to lizard in binary. The earth could not handle all of the weird sci fi movie cliches and exploded, right after aliens landed, ------ everyone, and a plague swept through everything and ------ everything.

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amberbennetttravelsbyber · 1 year

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Albania is a country situated in Southeastern Europe, bordering Greece, the Republic of Macedonia, Serbia, and Montenegro, with a coastline facing the Adriatic and Ionian seas within the Mediterranean Sea.

The country counts for about 3 million people and its capital is Tirana.

Albania is a place that offers a real unique European adventure to any tourist.

Albania is one of those countries where you never know what you’re going to get, it is full of surprises and located a bit off the beaten track, and all this together makes way for a unique experience.

When it comes to Tirana, it is a colorful European capital, much brighter and greener than people usually expect.

Unfortunately, Albania has a bad reputation in Europe as a crime-ridden nation.

However, in spite of this bad reputation, it is relatively safe to travel to Albania.

How Safe Is Albania for Travel?

OVERALL RISK: LOW

Albania is a relatively safe country to travel to. There are mild threats, nothing that should stop you from traveling there. In the main cities (Tirana, Durres, Vlore) there are no major issues, and the only area you should avoid is Albania's border with Kosovo.

TRANSPORT & TAXIS RISK: MEDIUM

Means of transportation are various in Albania but not very reliable. Just because there is a schedule, doesn't mean there actually is a schedule, so you can count on waiting for buses, trains, etc. However, it is mostly safe, but be careful of pickpockets on buses and trains.

PICKPOCKETS RISK: MEDIUM

Petty crime involving pickpocketing is common, especially if you're using public transportation. Also, cell phone thefts and wallet thefts do happen, so keep your valuables in a safe place and take basic precaution measures.

NATURAL DISASTERS RISK: LOW

Albania lies in a seismically active zone, and minor earthquakes and tremors are common. Serious earthquakes are less frequent but do occur.

MUGGING RISK: MEDIUM

Mugging, cell phone thefts, and carjacking do happen, however, these cases are not too common. Albania is not known for kidnapping, so you should be fine, but use common sense and be vigilant for any dangers at all times.

TERRORISM RISK: LOW

There haven't been terrorist attacks in Albania's recent history, but they shouldn't be ruled out.

SCAMS RISK: MEDIUM

Albanians are mostly warm and hospitable people, but there's always the risk of getting scammed if you're a tourist, and this also applies to Albania. Tourists have been overcharged for beers and street food, or given the wrong change, so try to avoid street vendors and negotiate everything in advance and check your change twice. Credit card fraud is also an issue in Albania and visitors should exercise caution by not letting the card out of their sight. As a tourist, be vigilant for strangers looking over their shoulders at the PIN number or for any interference with the machine itself that could indicate a camera or some kind of a scamming machine inside the ATM.

WOMEN TRAVELERS RISK: LOW

It is safe for women to travel alone in Albania, and most people will probably go out of their way to help in any way, but you should avoid walking in remote areas and alone at night.

So... How Safe Is Albania Really?

Albania’s bad reputation is hard to shake, although it is really a relatively safe place to visit.

This country does have some issues, but they are mainly in the north of the country, on the border with Kosovo (a part of Serbia), since, over the years there have been many political incidents and quarrels with Serbia regarding the territory of Kosovo.

Albanians are mainly considered heavily armed people, so this is the reason why it is not safe to travel to those parts of the country.

Also, there are some unexploded mines left over from wars and conflicts in the region, so don’t go wandering around unmapped areas.

Another danger in Albania is that it is a country with around 100,000 tons of piled up munitions in various warehouses and depots.

These warehouses and depots represent a serious danger from an explosion and are not sufficiently monitored and dealt with.

In 2008 there was an explosion on a motorway near Tirana originating from one of these depots.

As for petty crime, pickpocketing and cell phone theft, as well as luggage theft are the most common forms of a crime you’ll find on the streets, and they are relatively common.

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iheartlexihoward · 2 years

Text

asleep // fez

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: you suffer from nightmares. bad ones. it took a while, but you eventually started feeling able to let fez in.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: fez x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* cws: gun mention, vague mentions of trauma ? nothing much, i purposefully kept it super vague

based on this request! / masterlist

i'm tryna get through the fez reqs i currently have asap before continuing w vulnerable :) thank u very much to the anon who requested this blurb, i hope u enjoy!

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As long as you could remember, you’d had them.

It wasn’t all the time, sometimes you were lucky enough to have a nice dream, one where you and Fezco were in Paris drinking red wine or having a picnic in a sunflower field. Something real cheesy, that left you with a warm feeling inside your belly.

But more often than not, you woke up near gasping for air, thanking fucking God that what you were experiencing a few seconds ago wasn’t real.

See, while your conscious, logical brain can talk you through the difference between the past and the present, your subconscious mind and body don’t have that luxury. When you’re awake, you can say to yourself that it’s okay, and it was a long time ago, and it’s not happening anymore, but when asleep you’re at the mercy of your deepest, most subliminal brain activity. The shit you push down during the day. And your body doesn’t know the difference. It doesn't know what's real, what's fake, what's just a memory. All your body knows is how to react to threat, how to panic to keep you alive.

When you first started getting closer to Fez, you were reluctant to stay over, worried that you’d scare him off by jolting up at 3am freaking the fuck out. You knew he was a sweet boy, and so kind and understanding, however it couldn’t help but play in the back of your mind. You were sure it confused him the way you’d remain at his until the stupidest times, both of you utterly exhausted yet you’d still insist on going home to sleep. Looking back at it, you felt horrible — you were sure he’d most likely thought it was a problem with him, with his home.

It took a while for you to explain everything to him. You opened up in tidbits, and each time he’d listened patiently, holding your hands and swiping a comforting thumb over your palm.

Eventually, you told him about the nightmares, and everything clicked into place. He suddenly understood why you hadn’t felt comfortable enough to sleep next to him, and although it upset him, he didn’t let it show. The only reason why it made him feel that way is because he couldn’t help but think about you waking up, terrified and alone. He wanted to be there.

And so you began sleeping over. It wasn’t right away, but the first time it happened in front of him, you were mortified. You couldn’t stop crying and apologizing, feeling terrible for waking him up at such a bad hour. Fezco had coaxed you into his arms, enveloping you safely and whispering over and over that it was okay, he didn’t care about being woken, he was only worried about you.

Over time, it got easier. You still felt guilty every time, but that started to wane; the panic itself got less difficult to deal with, too. Just a little.

You always tried not to wake him, but Fez was a very light sleeper. He couldn’t help it. His sleep wasn’t brilliant either, his unconscious mind still listening out for any kind of danger — as far as he was concerned, the slightest noise could be anything from a gun-toting intruder to the police seconds from kicking the door in.

He’d always rouse gently as you panicked next to him as silently as possible, sleepily reaching out for you before he was even remotely alert. At first, you completely recoiled from his touch. But gradually, it became less terrifying, less foreign, and you were able to accept the comfort little by little. He’d sit up with you as long as it took, waiting for you to feel okay with contact, pulling you in cautiously and steadily. First, it would be a gentle hand on your back, or a digit swiping across your shoulder. Then, he’d situate closer and make sure you were alright with an arm around you. It always ended up with you completely encompassed in him, whether it be curled up in his lap or laying on his bare chest, absent-mindedly tracing the path of his freckles as he mumbled sweet nothings.

“Ain’t nobody ever gonna hurt you again.”

“Love you more than fuckin’ life, baby.”

“You safe wit’ me. Always.”

Safe with him. You knew it was true.

#euphoria #fez #fezco #fez imagine #fez oneshot #fez blurb #fez x reader #euphoria imagine #fez fic #fezco fanfic #fezco x reader

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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

Denki, Dabi and Bakugou in a secret relationship

Request: hii!! i loved your post about the secret relationship being exposed and i was wondering if you could do the same for dabi bakugo and denki - anonymous

Um this was supposed to go up yesterday, I had queued it but tumblr decided to just deleted. Oh well. I hope you like it you guys even though its a day late. This was fun to write. Love ya. 💖💖💖

rules

warnings: some sexy times mentions, fluff

Kaminari Denki

-Kaminari is an idiot.

-I don’t even know who you’ve managed to keep your relationship a secret.

-90% sure the whole school knows and just pretends to be oblivious.

-Anyways.

-It kinda bothers him that he has to keep it a secret.

-He wants to scoop you up and spin you around in the hallways, hug you after a really rough training session with Bakubro, kiss you when you are being extra extra cute.

-Plus he wants to brag to the other idiots for getting a girlfriend first.

-But alas he respects your wishes and tries to keep it all under wraps.

-Your parents are pro heroes and have warned you about the dangers of dating since you are their kid.

-Villains wouldn’t hesitate to threaten you with your significant other if it means they’ll get to your parents.

-So now Kaminari is stuck sneaking in your dorm late at night only to spend a few hours with you and give you as much kisses as he can fit in the little time you have.

-Surprisingly he has kept it a secret for almost a year now.

-No slip ups, no marks on his skin after a spice night, none of your clothes could be found in his room whatsoever.

-Apart from his usual flirty nature towards you, there was nothing that could indicate that you two were an item.

-Now being in your third year, things had gotten rather serious with your hero works.

-Most of you if not all had been working along side a pro hero for the last year or two but that didn’t mean they would take you in after high school.

-Every student had to wait for the acceptance letter from the agency or an agency in general and they would be set for their hero work after school.

-You had been working with a hero agency since your first year and you were pretty happy.

-But the pro hero you had been with decided that after you were done with your hero studies, he would retire leaving you with no agency to boost your career after school.

-Kaminari was as devastated as you were.

-He tried comforting you as much as he could, extra hugs and kisses, more snacks and movie nights, anything to help you cope with the fact that you would be back to the starting line once school was over.

-He hated seeing you cry.

-Then the unthinkable happened.

-Mt.Lady was a well known hero and one with a desired sidekick position that no one seemed to really fill.

-You had just helped her stop a major villain attack tricking the villain and capturing him before he could do any real damage in the area.

-To say that Mt.Lady was impressed was an understatement.

-She contacted your hero agency and asked if you had already signed a deal with them.

-You can see where this is going.

-When you got the notice from Mt. Lady’s agency you were over the moon and so was Kaminari.

-He was so happy that the person he loved the most was finally getting what she deserved.

-He had dragged you to the janitor’s closet to give you his personal congratulations, catching the attention of a certain red head.

-He kissed you like there was no tomorrow, his arms keeping you as close as possible, flush to his chest as he peppered your face and neck with feather light kisses.

- “I’m so proud of you babe!”

-You tried to keep your giggles on the down low to no avail since Kaminari’s goal was to make you laugh.

-For a long moment you didn’t care if someone found you, you were so happy and so comfortable in Denki’s arms that you didn’t want to leave the closet and go back to your hidden lives.

-Then you saw the light coming from the door, getting ready to lightly scold Kaminari for leaving the door open when you made eye contact with Kirishima......and Mina ..... and Sero..... and somewhere in the far back with a pair of ruby red eyes.

- “Babygirl is everything alright?”

-He hadn’t seen them yet, then he followed your line of vision and the man has never yeeted you out of his arms faster in his life.

-Your friends just stared at you in complete shock for a full minute before Bakugou broke the silence.

- “Oi you own me ramen Kirishima.”

Dabi

-With this guy I’m not surprised that you managed to keep it a secret.

-Oh no no no.

-I’m surprised you managed to get him into a relationship.

-It wasn’t easy though you would give him that.

-You were part of the LoV of course and well you didn’t really take any of their shit.

-The only person you respected was Kurogiri and that was borderline pity.

-He had to babysit a 20 year old killing machine with issues, many issues, many many issues.

-When Dabi approached you with his signature flirty and I-only-do-one-night-stands-babygirl attitude, you being the idiot that you are took the bait.

-The LoV knows of yalls nights together but they only thought that that was it.

-Dabi slept around and you were a really attractive person.

-Plus they knew you both were bored so sex was, to their eyes, the only solution.

-What they didn’t know though was that Dabi was starting to catch feelings and soon enough he hated seeing you remotely talking with another human being.

-Then that fateful mission happened and the deal was sealed.

-You were spying on Overhaul and his lackeys, hidden in his underground lab watching as they went around doing stuff.

-Then you heard a childish scream and it was the first time Dabi saw fear flash in your eyes.

-You turned around following the source of the screams absolutely ignoring Dabi’s protests and threats.

-It was like you were in a daze and Dabi felt the terror sink his claws in his throat as you passed by so many of Overhaul’s members nearly getting caught.

-When you reached the glass door that led into Eri’s experiment lab, he saw the color drain from your face and your knees buckling.

-He caught you before you hit the floor dragging you away from the lab door despite the fact that you clawed at his coat to put you down.

-He felt his shoulder getting wet and that’s when he saw the tears that were falling freely down your cheeks.

-He had managed to calm you down long enough to convince you to leave before you got caught but luck wasn’t on your side when one of the lackeys spotted you.

-Dabi was a few feet away from the exit, becoming reckless at the sight of freedom not noticing the masked individual pointing his gun at him.

-You noticed though.

-And you got in the way, pushing Dabi to the ground as the quirk cancelling bullet pierced your side leaving you to fall to the floor with a grunt and a strangled pained moan.

-The next few minutes were a blur.

-Dabi didn’t remember how he got you out of there or how he was now on a rooftop with you pressed flush against his chest as the affects of the bullet made you tremble.

- “Shh doll, shhh. I’m here I got you.”

-He knew your trembling was not entirely because of the bullet, he saw how your eyes glassed over at the sight of Eri back in the lab and he knew that this had something to do with your past.

-He used to get the same glassy eyed look on his face when he would see Endeavour on the news shortly after his “death”.

-Things changed after that.

-He didn’t take you to the hideout that night, he brought you to his apartment where he helped you clean up your wound and calm down.

- “I know it’s not my place to ask but what the hell to you happened back there?”

-When you explained what you’ve been through and how those screams brought back things you thought you had long ago buried, he was left gawking at you.

-For some weird reason he believed that you were just a brat who ran away from home on some rebellious whim.

- “Ugh what am I saying? You don’t give a damn! Why did I even-”

- “Touya.”

- “What?”

- “My real name is Touya, I-I wanted you to know.”

-Sharing a heart felt night analyzing your past trauma with someone you sleep with is one way to get yourself into a relationship.

-You both agreed to keep it secret and you did keep it like that for a long time, a very long time.

-The LoV never truly found out.

-Some had their suspicions sure, Mister Compress had even made a bet with Toga but you two never gave them any further hints apart from the constant paired up missions you went on.

-The only one who knew was Kurogiri.

-He had caught you two spending the night together on a rooftop, all cuddled up together your hands intertwined as you looked up at the stars.

-He was getting back from an emergency snack run when he saw the familiar glow of Dabi’s blue flames and your characteristic giggles.

-He never said anything and when Dabi came to him to ask for some pregnancy facts, he knew that he truly loved you.

-No one ever knew and no one will ever know.

-Unless the run into you two in five years while you’re out for a walk with your son.

Bakugou Katsuki

-Sparky sparky boom boom man is a lil bitch.

-Don’t try to argue you know that too.

-You just need to accept it.

-His way to approach you was by insulting the living shit out of you before making you reach the tip of an anger fit.

-He knew how to press your buttons and it made you fume.

-You had to give it to him he was hella attractive and his true personality shined through his faced at times.

-And so did his worry for you.

-You got together after his kidnapping.

-He suffered from nightmares after the incident and one night he came to your dorm, trembling and cold sweat running down his spine.

-He had no idea why his feet led him to your room, he just knew that you were now wrapping him in a fluffy blanket and putting on a Disney movie as you hugged him so so tightly.

-He slept over and the next morning he confessed.

-Actually you both confessed but those are useless details.

-In reality it wasn’t even a confession with words.

-You both woke up facing each other, your noses touching and I don’t know who leaned in first but next thing you knew you were kissing his hand cupping you cheek while the other intertwined with yours.

-Keeping your relationship a secret with this one is easy.

-He is still being a lil bitch to you and you are still sassing him back.

-Behind closed doors he is kinda sweet and caring not a lot though because even with you he has to uphold his reputation.

-After some time though he calms down and is a cuddle bug.

-Like he will tackle you on the bed the moment you close the door to his dorm, restricting any movement until he is satisfied with the cuddles.

-Baby even said ‘I love you’ first awwww!!

-He was so shy about it.

-Anyways.

-That’s a story for another time.

-He doesn’t really care about keeping it a secret anymore.

-He’s low key tired of hiding.

-Much like Kaminari he wants to kiss you whenever he wants, hold you and hug you till you can’t breathe after he gets back to the dorms after a rough patrol with his hero study.

-But oh well the cat isn’t out of the bag yet and you being third years now you couldn’t really do something about it.

-You spend so much time with him that you would think that some of your classmates would like sniff you out.

-But no.

-They all dumb af.

-You would spend a lot of time with him and the Bakusquad since your first year so they just think you’re really good friends.

-Todoroki kinda knows but he doesn’t at the same time.

-Some mannerisms remind him while he was in a secret relationship before Momo found out but then he sees how Bakugou treats you just like any other person so he is really confused.

-More confused than usual.

-Now you got outed by the man himself.

-Bakugou is not good with jealousy.

-Jealousy and Bakugou should never go hand in hand.

-You were talking to Mina in class, leaning on the desk behind you.

-Your skirt had ridden up show casing your thighs making Bakugou think back to some noises you made a few nights ago.

-If he got hard he would blame you and he would be extra pissy.

-He was enjoying the show though.

-He watched you like a hawk.

-The way your body leaned back making your legs straighten and flex slightly or how he could see the hickey he had left right at the base of your neck the other night that you’ve tried to cover with make up.

-He could see it because he knew it was there, to an outsider everything was normal.

-He was jolted out of his daze by Mineta’s voice.

-And the sound of your name on his lips.

- “Look at Y/N’s thighs! She could suffocate me with those legs and I would thank her!”

-Kirishima smacked him upside the head trying to shut him up.

-Kaminari was slowly escaping the scene because he saw the small sparks in his friend’s hand at the comment.

-He chose life.

-Mineta though didn’t stop.

- “I could lose myself between those legs. Oh the noises she must make.”

-Now what happened next is a huge question mark.

-The end result however was Mineta almost being blasted out the window and into space and Bakugou almost popping the vein on his forehead.

-You had to get in between them and try to calm down your boyfriend.

-Most of your classmates had long forgotten Mineta and his whining and had zoned in on your hands on Bakugou’s chest or on his arm that had wrapped around your waist in an attempt to push you behind him.

- “You ever dare speak my girlfriend’s name I’m blasting you to the next dimension.”

- “Katsuki please calm down it’s fine.”

-Legit you both forgot that your relationship had been a secret for the past three years.

-You floated back into reality when Present Mic himself asked.

- “YOu TWo aRe aN iTeM?????”

-Chaos ensued and a crap ton of explanations.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei

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