#might test this campaign out on them

[gobblewanker]

so now that making dnd content no longer makes me feel like I'm signing a deal with the devil...

#gravity falls #dnd project #stanley pines #stanford pines #jheselbraum #my art #i might have the possibility to DM for a group at a local game store! #might test this campaign out on them #you know without telling them its gravity falls

[anarchyrainbowz]

I JUST FINISHED STORY MODE AND. OMG THAT WAS SO MUCH MORE FUN THEN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE

#splatoon 3 spoilers #not rlly but just to be safe #im rlly happy u dont have to do ALL the little test things cuz that was why i didnt rlly like the other non dlc campaigns #also the similarities to octo expansion is tripping me out (/pos) and i might go back and do all of the stages so i can figure out what all #the logs say cuz theyre SO INTERESTING #also CAPTAIN THREE OMG #i wish they would have given them a little text bubble that just went ‘…’ PLS CAPN 3 CRUMBS IM BEGGING YOU 😭😭😭 #musings of a charger main

[appocalipse]

Grand Gesture | eddie munson

summary: catching feelings for your best friend was never in your plans. when you start distancing yourself from him to protect your heart, eddie vows to do everything in his power to keep it forever.

“Come over for dinner tonight?” Eddie asks, trying to sound natural but maybe not being quite successful. “Wayne misses you, you know.”

It's a lie and he knows it — not that Wayne doesn't like you, far from it, but Eddie is painfully aware he's the one who misses you the most. He feels like a part of him is missing. His uncle, on the other hand, is a man of actions more than a man of words, and judging by the way he always ordered your favorite pizza flavor when you'd come visit Eddie, or how he'd give an understanding smile whenever Eddie did so much as mention your name, it was safe to say he considered you as much family as he did Eddie himself.

But that was before. Eddie now has to be quick if he wants to talk to you between classes. Most of the time you're no more than a blur to him — the ghost of his childhood best friend.

You look up at him very quickly — as if your eyes would burn if your gaze lingered too long, even — and you shove some books out of your backpack into the locker with little care. You smile, but Eddie knows all of your genuine smiles and this isn't one of them.

“Uh, well, I can't today,” you say. "Sorry."

"Tomorrow?"

"Busy too."

You seem to be calculating an escape route as you look down the hall. Eddie feels terribly pathetic when he asks again, "What about next week?"

“I have a test next week, I'll have to study.”

“Oh,” is all he manages to say.

Eddie doesn't remember any tests happening the following week. He twirls a ring around his finger nervously and tries to convince himself that it might be from a class of yours that he doesn't attend.

“Thanks for inviting me anyway," you close the locker and smile that same smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Say hi to Wayne for me, okay?”

“...sure.”

You're leaving once more. Eddie feels panic rising in his throat, swallows hard, and says, before he can stop himself, "You're still going to The Hideout on Tuesday, right?"

Tuesday. It was something you and him had agreed on a while ago; Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout every Tuesday and most Tuesdays you'd go see them, but if you couldn't make it every time, the deal was that you'd go at least once a month. And you hadn't been there for the last three Tuesdays, which made this your last chance to keep your promise.

You look over your shoulder at Eddie, saying, "I'll try." And wave before rushing off to your next class without looking back.

He immediately knows you won't come; it's remarkable how much distance you've managed to put between the two of you in such a short amount of time.

On the other hand, you know you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday.

Not because you have an appointment you can't reschedule or because you've already made plans you don't want to miss…but because being in love with your best friend feels awfully like getting a thorn into your foot. You could go weeks without seeing him, slowly forgetting the thorn was there…and then you'd just spend 2 minutes with Eddie and the damn thing would re-enter your skin three times deeper.

So no, you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday, you decide. Watching Eddie play guitar wouldn't do you any good.

And you don't go. Not this Tuesday, not the next, not the one after that. Time goes by too fast but somehow the days seem to drag on terribly. And then days become weeks, weeks become months. Well, month, singular, but Eddie feels like he's lived a lifetime during the time you're not talking to him. It certainly feels like months.

36 days. Not that the two of you are counting. Definitely not.

Eddie is sitting on his throne in the middle of a Hellfire session, babbling his lines and running the campaign almost robotically, when he thinks of you again. The Eddie from before, the Eddie who still had you in his life, would have been ecstatic as he awaited the day to share this campaign with his little sheep around this very table. Now he's having trouble keeping track of what's going on.

He remembers the general idea; a curse, some monsters, an object capable of saving the world that lies in the power of a female elf the party has to find and convince to help. Yada, yada.

It's the third time he's lost himself inside his own head.

"Dude!"

Eddie looks at Dustin as if he's just been slapped. "What?"

“You're being ridiculous. Just talk to her."

"How dare you-"

Dustin realizes Eddie is about to go on a rant about getting out of character mid-session. He's not sure where all this courage is coming from (maybe it comes from the fact that he really cares about his Dungeon Master's happiness) but Dustin reaches out and lowers the screen in front of Eddie.

“You gotta go find your elf, man,” he says, encouraged by the murmurs of agreement rising from the others in the room. "Like, right now. Looks like your world is coming to an end.”

Eddie has an answer on the tip of his tongue as he looks from face to face and back to Dustin's.

"I'm the Dungeon Master here, Henderson." He doesn't care if he sounds defensive or silly or if the other boys will realize he's purposely pretending not to understand what his friend means. He doesn't care in the least.

“Oh, for God's sake,” insists Dustin, apparently the group's representative now that the subject is Eddie's personal life. "You know very well I'm talking about her."

Eddie makes a move to lift the dungeon master screen once again in hopes of ending the conversation. Dustin pulls it out of his grasp with little care.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

“You should go after her, man,” suggests Lucas, very quietly.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, working up the courage to say something when Eddie doesn't say anything. “Believe me, it took some time to figure out my feelings for El, too. But at least I got it at some point, you know.”

“A grand gesture is what you need,” Lucas adds with newfound confidence. "It's what I do when Max doesn't want to talk to me."

He cowers slightly when Eddie looks at him, an appraising brow raised. Dustin is nodding his head emphatically in agreement, though.

“We want our Dungeon Master back,” Gareth says, trying to lighten the mood.

There is a silence that seems to last for years. Then, not quite realizing what he's doing, Eddie stands up, nearly toppling his throne in the process, and pretty much jumps toward the door.

Behind him, the boys shout words of encouragement and whistle with exaggerated excitement.

Grand gesture, huh?

"You should ask Eddie to go to the movies with you."

"Mom," you scold for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, helping her into her coat.

"I just don't like leaving you home alone."

"I'll be fine. I'm practically an adult now."

Of course, you are. The discussion is not about that and you know it. She knows it. But none of you say anything. This conversation has played out several times in many different ways over the past thirty days, and it doesn't look like she's going to stop insisting anytime soon.

Your mother gives you her best puppy dog eyes. "Are you really going to be okay?"

"Yes, yes!" You emphasize, gently pushing her out the front door and smiling as convincingly as you can. "I swear I will. Now go have fun!"

She smiles and kisses the top of your head affectionately.

"Lock the door behind me, okay?"

You do. But you might as well have left the damn thing open, because two minutes after you lock it and just a second after you sit down on the couch, you hear a knock.

You run to the door, key in hand.

"Mom, did you forget something agai-"

But it's not your mom.

"Eddie," you mumble, voice barely a whisper.

It shouldn't be possible, but he's right there in front of you, hands in his pockets as he looks at your face with a nervous smile.

"Hi," he says, voice husky and warm just as you remember.

You feel like your heart is about to find its way out of your rib cage somehow.

Clearing your throat, you finally find your voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at Hellfire?" you ask.

"I left halfway through the session," he says, as if that explains everything. Eddie Ditching Hellfire? When you don't say anything else, standing there looking like you want to slam the door in his face, Eddie quickly adds, "Can I come in?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"We need to talk."

"It's not a good time," you say without looking at him, a little upset because, damn, how are you supposed to forget a guy who keeps showing up?

You start to close the door slowly, almost without realizing you're doing it.

Eddie puts his foot in the gap to stop you.

"Please," he begs. "Ten minutes?"

No, no, no. Say no.

Cursing inwardly, you step back and let him in. "Five."

You gesture for him to sit around the small kitchen table and lean against the counter, keeping a safe distance from him, your arms crossed tightly in front of your chest.

You ask him if he'd like something to eat or drink and he denies, hating how he's become a guest at your place, an outsider, someone you no longer have that familiar intimacy with.

You're staring at the floor like it's the most interesting thing you'd ever laid eyes on. "What did you want to talk about?" you ask.

Eddie places both hands on the table, twirling the rings around his fingers anxiously.

"I want…I need to…." he licks his lips and looks at your face, trying to turn thoughts into words and not understanding why it's suddenly so difficult to do so. "Why do you suddenly hate me?"

You can't say you didn't expect to hear a question like this at some point. That doesn't mean you don't get slightly lost when you actually hear it, though.

"I don't hate you, Eddie."

"You didn't talk to me in weeks, you didn't come to see my band," he holds up a finger as he points out each of your actions, "you run the other way whenever you see me in the school hallways…"

His gaze diverts to the space beside you.

“Christ, you even ripped our picture out of your fridge, apparently,” he lets out a completely humorless chuckle, a hint of sadness behind the irony you know all too well.

You look into the empty space he's indicating and suddenly feel guilty. A picture of the two of you the first night Eddie played at the Hideout with the band used to be there.

"I don't hate you," you repeat, silly. "I'd never hate you."

"You don't even look at me."

"Of course I do." You weren't looking until now, but you force yourself to do so even though it's hard. There's something very intimate about looking Eddie in the eyes, you think, something awfully familiar. "I'm looking at you right now."

"Yeah. For 2 seconds, I bet."

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, take a deep breath, and try to keep your thoughts clear.

"Did you come all the way here to tell me to look at you?"

"No," he says. "I came all the way here to say I miss you."

A very long time passes without you saying anything, your chest rising and falling faster than usual. Eddie realizes he's surprised you.

A spark of happiness you shouldn't feel warms your heart. You try to smother it.

In a small voice, he insists, "Don't you miss me?"

Your heart screams yes, but you don't say anything. Eddie stands up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor sounding alarming to your ears.

“We've been friends for…what? Twelve years? And you're going to tell me that you've simply decided that you don't like my company now?”

“Eddie,” you finally say. "Stop."

You uncross your arms, using your hands to lean against the kitchen counter behind you instead, fighting the urge to run. Whether in Eddie's direction or the opposite, you're still unsure.

"Why? So you can go back to erasing me from your life again without saying anything?” he asks, putting the chair back in place before moving towards you. “You can say it to my face, then. Say you hate me.”

"I don't hate you."

"You certainly don't like me."

"I-"

“Or think of me.”

“I never said-”

"If you tell me to leave now, I swear I will and I won't come back," he promises and you know it's true. But then, slower, lighter, almost whispering, he adds, “…but that's not what I want.”

You should tell him to go away, to leave. You know he won't give up if you don't tell him to do so, but you can't bring yourself to be cruel to him, not even to protect your own heart.

So instead, the spark of hope becomes a flame inside your chest and you find yourself asking, “And what do you want?”

For a good five seconds, Eddie looks at you like he's facing a crossroads. Then he comes closer and places his hands over yours, one on either side of you, any definition of personal space momentarily forgotten as he moves his face closer to yours.

“I want…,” he begins, and it's thanks to the way you can feel each word that leaves his lips that you're made aware of how close you are, that you're between him and the kitchen counter. That he's about to kiss you. “I want to-”

His forehead rests against yours, his eyes slowly fluttering closed. The words he wants to say never make it past his mouth.

He is about to kiss you, right?

“Eddie-”

Eddie leans back just enough to consider the expression on your face, eyes big and brown and warm.

"You want me to go?" he whispers.

“No,” you're not surprised at how quickly you respond. Your hand slips from under his to brush a dark curl out of his eyes. "I broke our promise, though."

"It's okay."

He leans in. You feel his lips at the corner of your mouth and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'll go to every single one of your gigs from now on-"

“Please,” he begs, a distinct hint of affection behind his words. "Stop talking."

"What you're doing?"

His upper lip touches yours. You can feel his reluctant smile when he says, “A grand gesture, I hope.”

And then, Eddie closes the gap — your breath catches the very moment his mouth meets yours, his kiss gentle, slow, a step too big to be taken all at once. He leans in and you feel his chest against yours, one hand sliding to the small of your back and pressing you even closer, another moving up your arm, over your shoulder, to the crook of your neck and your jaw. He holds your face and you sigh against his mouth, your lips parted invitation enough for him to deepen the kiss.

And God, being kissed like this does feel like a grand gesture.

He tastes exactly like you thought he would and somehow entirely different at the same time — something familiar, something safe, but also something new and fiery and wonderful.

You're breathing heavily — Eddie not much different — when he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“Tell me to stay,” he whispers. In the silence of the empty house, it's more than enough. “Please tell me you want me to stay, sweetheart, 'cause I have no fucking idea how to stay away from you.”

You're still coming to your senses, all too aware of the hand he keeps tightly on your waist, of the gentle movement of his calloused thumb against your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile the most genuine smile he's ever seen on your face.

“As if I’d ever let you go after this, Munson.”

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x female reader

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Safe and Sound

When Eddie and Steve settle into their relationship, the Party notices some...interesting changes about their Dungeon Master and their favorite babysitter.

Eddie has always been one of the most alert people they have known. It probably comes with the drug dealing territory and also being the town freak, he never knew when he’d get jumped on the street or simply tossed around for a good laugh of the local jocks. He always watched his surroundings like a hawk, his dark eyes sharp in contrast to the laid back smile. Eddie was quick on his feet, always ready to move out of the way or jump to the higher ground.

The Party can’t exactly put a finger on it at first, but there is definitely something different now that Eddie and Steve sat them down, explained to them that they got their wish, they finally get along, actually, they might be getting along way more than they ever hoped, and after some clarification ("is it because all of your dates in last year sucked, Steve?" asked Dustin and got smacked by Max in return) the Party congratulated them and pretended to gag at every display of affection. The first one to notice the change is Erica, they are all walking to get some ice cream before they continue their campaign and Eddie is taking notes, mumbling to himself and scribbling numbers in his notebook. Steve walks next to him, just a mere friend to an outsider's gaze. Eddie is completely immersed in the campaign planning and he nearly walks into the street light - but only nearly because Steve is there, gently grabbing Eddie's elbow and redirecting him out of harm's way. The metalhead just mutters "thanks, love" and keeps taking notes as if nothing has just happened. Erica rolls her eyes and scoffs at Eddie. "What happened to attention to your surroundings, not cool anymore?" and Eddie just smirks, not looking up from his notes, while Steve answers: "It's okay, I got him. Let him work on your dragon hunting thing so he actually gets some sleep tonight." Erica doesn't say anything after that, but the wheels are turning in her head. 

The summer is very hot this time, and they decide to go swimming to the quarry, burying the bad memories under a pile of new ones, joyful ones. Steve stays with Eddie on the shore while the seven children test the water, splash each other and slowly escalate to a full-scale war. Mike spits out a mouthful of water after being dunked and prepares for counter attack, but his opponent - Max - is distracted. She's looking at their babysitters, slightly frowning. "I swear that normally Steve would be shouting his vocal chords away that we're taking it too far," she says and squints to look why they're not getting the usual load of motherly care. It appears that Steve is...sleeping? Well, that is unusual. His head is in Eddie's lap while the other man strokes his hair, watching the teenagers play. Max just shrugs and goes back to drowning Mike, but she makes sure to check on the two of them afterwards. 

"Something wrong, Red?" smiles Eddie, his voice quiet not to wake Steve up. The hand in his hair doesn't let up. 

Max shakes her head, watching the rise and fall of Steve's distractingly hairy chest. "No, it's just...I haven't seen him this relaxed in a while. I got kind of worried when he didn't yell at us for...well," she points towards the water where Mike and Lucas are wrestling. 

Eddie just smirks. "He deserves the rest. You know he's been watching you tiny shits for years nonstop, so I'm taking over when he lets me. And as far as I'm concerned, if there is no loss of life or limbs, you're good. But keep it tame. If you make me get over there and wake Stevie up, there might be loss of life after all. Now off you go, gang up on Wheeler or something."

It's Will who manages to articulate what they're all unable to when Steve hosts the next Hellfire Club meeting, carrying trays of baked snacks to the table. His hand slips a bit, but before anything falls and ruins the pristine carpet, Eddie is there, stabilizing him. "I got you, love," he mutters and takes the tray from his hands. Steve just smiles back, no words needed. 

When they disappear into the kitchen to bring drinks, Will smiles to himself. "They look so in sync," he mentions to Max who seems to be sharing his thoughts. "They've always been so..."

"Sharp? Alert? Freaking out about the next catastrophe?" she supplies. 

Will nods. "Yeah. It's nice to see them finally being able to relax. I mean, I guess it comes with dating, but not for everyone. I'm happy for them. It...it must be nice," he finishes, a tinge of pink in his cheeks. 

Max just smiles at him and squeezes his hand under the table. "You will get there too," she assures him. "And then Erica will be on your case all the time when your...partner..." she says quietly, not daring to voice her suspicions aloud, "has to hold you back from jumping under a car because you're too caught up in sketching." 

Will snickers and Max joins in, giving his hand one final squeeze. "I'd like that," he says, his eyes bright, just like their future.

#steddie #domestic steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #strangerthings #stranger things #strangerthingsdrabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #will byers #erica sinclair #steve x eddie #hellfire club #max mayfield

[ms-demeanor]

Okay so, how exactly do Password Managers work?

Because I'm pretty sure that giving some random corporation all my passwords would just make it EASIER for my personal info to get leaked.

I mean it is genuinely complicated; I don't know if you saw my explanation about dominoes yesterday, but basically you're not giving the company your information. You are creating an account with a company and they are handing you a tool that is extremely securely encrypted to store your passwords in. The company never has access to your passwords, or to the key you use to unlock your account. What they have access to is the cryptographic hash of your key to prove that it is you trying to access the account, but they can't reverse engineer the key that you use.

It's the same sort of process that encrypted email services like ProtonMail use. It's zero-knowledge storage. All that the password manager company is storing (in the case of a good password manager like Bitwarden) is up to 1gb of encrypted data for free users. They don't have access to your information. They couldn't get into it if they wanted to. All that they know about you is whatever information you used to register for the service and broad information about creation of the account.

Part of the reason that I recommend Bitwarden is that it is both open source and pretty widely used and recommended.

Open source security products are often considered more secure than closed-source tools because they can be examined and tested at the source-code level by *anyone* to check for vulnerabilities and holes in the security. Functionally what this means is that you have very smart, very motivated, and very security-conscious people testing products like Bitwarden for flaws and reporting them immediately.

I'm not great at explaining cryptographic hashing so I'm in a position where basically all I can tell you is "Trust me it works, and if that's not enough you have to go do some reading about hashing because I can't explain it." This is the barrier that a LOT of people have to using a password manager, and it's frustrating because genuinely, it is not something that people who work in security worry about *at all.*

When we're working with security the concern about password managers is *never* that a zero-knowledge company is going to have a leak. The concern is that data might actually be stored in plaintext (something you don't have to worry about with bitwarden because if that was the case everyone on the forums would be screaming their heads off at all times, and they are not) or that a phishing campaign is going to trick a user into handing over their password to the password manager.

But yeah, when you start using a good password manager with zero-knowledge storage, you aren't handing your data to a company. What's happening is that the company is handing YOU a tiny safe. The tiny safe has a ten-thousand-digit combination lock that you set the code for, and the company has no way of figuring out that code. They're hoping that you will pay them for the safe. And if you forget your code, you're screwed - the company can't get you access because, again, they have no way of getting the code. They don't store it, they don't see it, they don't know it, they can't produce it if ordered to do so at trial, and they can't reset the code.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: The Gleebringer Battalions

Gallard Gleebringer only ever wanted to make people happy. By using his skills as a toymaker and inventor he sought to fill the world with devices that would bring wonder, and save people from the drugery of labor to give them more time for play.

Seeking to save his neighbours from the horrors of war, and under the patronage of the battlehungry local margrave, Gallard has a constructed an autonomous army of toy soldiers that in some weeks time will go berserk and begin rampaging across the land, playing out an inexplicable war-game that will leave villages sacked and the entire region destabilized.

It’s up to the party to notice the looming crisis and do something about it before the toys begin their march, As the powers that be are not only blind to the looming crisis but actively dismissive of any

Adventure Hooks:

Scraping together enough coin to fund a construct army has left the margrave’s treasury more than a little tight pursed, leading them to skimp on things like repairing infrastructure, public festivals, and resupplying their garrisons. There’s plenty of opportunities for adventurers as bandits and monsters propagate through the wilderness, and the lesser nobles rely on mercenaries to guard their holdings. Its only so long before the cracks begin to show however, as roads wash out and the realms defenders turn to brigandry. 

The party end up in a tavern drinking with an old military officer previously employed by the margrave. She’s iresome and illtempered, but she’ll crawl out of her cups long enough to tell the tale of how after twenty years of loyal service she was let go for protesting when some of the troops under her command were killed in a training exercise.  If the party press a little she might just let it slip that it wasn’t training so much as a field test of Gleebringer’s machines, which her boss insisted be against real troops. Later on, they’ll find an official bounty posted for the woman, who’s rallied some of her fellow discontented soldiers and started on a campaign of sabotage. 

For his part Gleebringer is quite blind to the looming threat, having been carried by his ever shifting attention to yet another new project once the design and manufacture of the armies were complete. The party might get a chance to talk to him however if they manage to sneak into the excursive exposition he's hosting in the province's capital, either by riding in on the coattails of a wealthy patron, or by sneaking in among the serving staff. Actually getting an audience with the toymaker will be even more difficult as the margrave has set his agents to watch and protect Gleebringer, and it's only so long before they notice the uninvited guest have crashed the private function.

Setup: While many gnomes dabble in artifice, it was early in his apprenticeship with the village toymaker that a young Gallard discovered both his love and prodigious talent for the technical arts. It wasn't just a magical knack, it was an eye for detail that had people saying that the gnome's creations seemed to be alive long before he figured out how to make them move on their own.

Soon Gleebringer toys were in demand across kingdoms, and Gallard found himself not only patronized by innumerable wealthy merchants and nobles but sought out by engineers and craftsfolk of all kinds who realized the genius packed away in his creations.

Gallard didn't let the fame or the fortune go to his head, instead using his growing connections and commission budget to experiment with even more complex designs. For example: scaling up from music boxes to clockwork bands, and eventually an automated opera house.

As a man who dreamed all his life of building a flying town, it was safe to assume that Gallard had his head in the clouds. He hated to see people suffer but seldom thought through the implications of his inventions, Such as when an automated lumber mill intended to supply materials for his projects put an entire town of foresters out of work. This penchant for distraction was only encouraged by the margrave, who saw the military applications of Gleebringer's gifts from the moment a clockwork dragon bought for one of his children ended up badly maiming one of the servants who saught to tidy up the toyblock castle it had been charged with guarding.

Over the past ten years, the Margrave has become Gallard's most generous patron, supplying him with workshops ( staffed by apprentaces who's loyalty can be counted on) and an endless series of new projects ( which always end up increasing the margrave's power and standing at the cost of the common good).

Art 1

Art 2

#villain #villain noble #villain artificer #artifice #construct #bounty #city encounter #tavern encounter #town encounter #gnome

[hellfirenacht]

Dress Code 2

Summary: A few weeks ago, you and Eddie got over a spat over Hellfire shirts. Now that the dust has settled, you decide to challenge his rulings.

Tags: sfw, Eddie Munson x Reader if you squint, idiots in love but they won't admit it yet, afab!reader, reader is mentioned wearing her own Hellfire shirt

Dress Code Part One

Eddie sat at his throne on the far end of the long table, his DM screen propped up to hide the mess of notes that were scribbled on various pieces of papers that he had grabbed throughout the week. Eddie was never one to be organized, even with the things he was most passionate about. Whenever a new idea for the campaign struck him he’d grab the nearest piece of paper to take down the idea before he forgot; be it the back of a barely passed math test, a napkin that had been shoved in the dashboard of his car, or (in one case) in the margins of Dustin’s report card. 

Of course, even as scattered as his notes were, there was no doubting that his campaigns always ran smoothly. Eddie always seemed to remember what note he put where, and there was minimal pausing to search for papers. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to keep his club in line. Outside this room he might be a fuck up, a coward, a guy from the wrong end of the tracks but in the Hellfire Club? He was in charge. He made the rules, and everyone knew it and dared not question him. Eddie had made his claim on being fair, yet not taking any flack from anyone in the club and that was how he liked it. 

Everyone was to show up on time every week, anyone who didn’t show up would miss out. If they were late, there would be a penalty. If they did not come wearing the shirts that they had spent a good two weeks on, there would be a penalty. Life may have chaos, but at least in Hellfire, the chaos was his to control. 

At least, that’s how it was supposed to be. 

As Eddie hit the lights to set the ambiance, he heard a door slam and the sound of giggling. He leaned back on his throne and waited for you to make your way down to the table. Your laughter was unmistakable, and he knew you well enough now to know that this particular giggle meant trouble for him. 

You were early, but you were always early. You always hated being late and enjoyed helping set up the table for everyone and chatting with Eddie before the game started. Eddie had to admit, you might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he was always glad that you joined, even when you made questionable decisions in the game that made him want to pull his hair out. 

He thought that you were joking at first; a very cute girl wanting to play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his crew? It seemed doubtful. You weren’t the first girl to be in Hellfire, Ronnie had been his right hand woman for the four years that she had been part of the club. Even some of the subs that occasionally popped in were girls. He’d never forget the times Sinclair’s little sister showed up to sub in, or even weirder, Nancy Wheeler had appeared at his table, while Mike explained that she owed him a huge favor. 

Honestly, Eddie might have invited the Wheeler sister back if she hadn’t scared him a little.

Then you showed up during your second week at Hawkins high, walked right up to him at lunch in front of everyone in school and asked to join Hellfire. Eddie really didn’t believe it at first, he  had been approached many times by different people jokingly asking to join. Eddie accepted every time, knowing that most times they wouldn’t even bother showing up for the meeting. Anyone who did show up would be accepted as long as they went through initiation. 

Eddie and the rest of Hellfire put any new players on trial in a grueling one-shot that tested their abilities and knowledge on the game. With each roll of the dice you had proved that you were here out of a genuine love for the game, even when your character died you acted out a heart wrenching death, no one in the club could say no to them joining the party. 

You now stood before him, and he stared back from over the DM screen stone-face despite your mischievous smile. Even in the dim lights there was a spark in your eyes that usually spelled trouble for Eddie. This time he didn’t even need to ask what you had done, when it was staring right at him on your chest. 

“Absolutely not.” Eddie said firmly.

You only laughed harder. 

“What, you don’t like it? And I worked so hard on this shirt!” You tried to keep your face straight but there was no denying how funny you thought the situation was. 

To your credit the shirt DID say Hellfire Club on it, but the difference was that the sleeves were now pink instead of black, and the logo had been distorted into something that was... he assumed to be cute? The weapons and demon head had been color shifted to pastel and now decorated with hearts. The letters were rounded like the notes of a teenage girl and the demonhead had hearts in its eyes. 

“I made it clear that we had a dress code for members-” Eddie started to argue. He already had a sinking feeling that this was not going to pan out in his favor. 

“And I’m following it!” you argued. “I’m wearing a Hellfire Club shirt. That was what you made clear, right? That as long as I was wearing it, I wouldn’t face a penalty. Besides, this shirt breathes better and it’s so hot in here.”

“I think it suits me.” You continued with at shit eating grin, stretching the bottom of your shirt out to show off the design more. “Plus now I have two shirts! That means I have back up!” 

Eddie didn’t flinch, knowing that you were reminding him of the time you’d almost overheated in the traditional shirt when you had been sick and the a/c had been out. Nope, he wasn’t gonna fold because he still felt a little bad about the situation. No way, he could be just as stubborn as you and he would hold his ground.

Eddie was always in control of the Hellfire club. 

Eddie was in control. 

“This is Hellfire Club.” He said, staring you down from his chair. “This is a club where we play a fantasy game and everyone in school thinks we’re some freak cult. There’s no way in hell you’re wearing that.”

“Come on, Eddie, look at how hard I worked on this! Big, bad, Eddie the Freak is so heartless he’s gonna look me in the eye and tell me that this shirt I worked so hard on isn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You leaned over his DM screen and gave him your widest puppy eyes and pouted in a way that should have made Eddie laugh in your face. 

It should have, but the way the candles made your eyes sparkle made his stomach twist in a funny way, despite trying to remain in control of this situation. He knew that soon the rest of club would file in, and he didn’t need them to suspect that when you smiled at him like that it did things to Eddie’s heart that he would prefer not to think about. He didn’t have time to think about that dammit, he was about to start the campaign!

You did look cute and that was half the problem, he already had problems keeping you out of his head and imagining you wearing his Hellfire shirt instead, and honestly he preferred that thought. 

Why did you always have to challenge him at every opportunity? You’d poke at his campaign, ask questions that he wouldn’t have thought to answer, challenged his rulings and the world he created. The others never dared to question him the way you had, but it had always come from a place of passion for the story he told. You could be frustrating, but he found himself grateful for it. Most times.

“Think of it like challenging authority.” You said, leaning against the table, your eyes never leaving his.. “We’re already freaks here in school, why force us into your version of conformity?” 

“The authority you’re challenging is your DMs’.” Eddie said, but he smiled despite himself. He stood up standing just a little closer to you than was necessary, looking over your shirt and trying not to look like he was oogling your chest. (Which, admittedly, he did commit the site to memory). It was well made (the shirt), and it was clear even in the dim light that this was for Hellfire and not any other club. It fit you in an odd way. 

The others would be coming down soon, and he needed to make a decision now. The fate of his club’s integrity was at stake. 

“Before you make your decision, Munster,” You said, holding up a hand. “I also come bearing gifts for my oh so gracious Dungeon Master.” 

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about being called Eddie Munster, but at least when you called him by the characters name, it wasn’t filled with the venom that usually came with Munson. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. “And by that you mean a bribe?”

“What else would I mean?” You said brightly, rummaging through your backpack.

Before him, Eddie was presented with cold Mountain Dew and a rather large bag of beef jerky. 

Ah yes, the one weakness to any good Dungeon Master. 

Snacks. 

How had you managed to get a cold one? Had you run to the gas station right after the bell rang and then booked it back here?

There was a moment of silence between the two of you as Eddie stared you down and at your offerings. Your face faltered for a moment, a hint of worry that maybe you had really done something wrong. Your playful smile drooped just slightly and there was that spark that flickered with doubt for a split second. 

Dammit.

Eddie could handle Dustin and Mike, they were under his wing and being tough on them would make them stronger against the world. But you? You were strong in your own way. You were so unapologetically yourself that sometimes it made him doubt why you’d want to spend time with him outside of Hellfire. You didn’t come to Hellfire as a social outcast, you didn’t come because you had nowhere else to go, and you didn’t come here for protection from the assholes of the school. You came here because you loved the game, loved this club. If anyone else had shown up like this he would have given them a penalty for this stunt. 

But you weren’t anyone else. You were you and you cared about Hellfire just as much as Eddie did. 

Fuck. 

Eddie took hold of the snacks. 

“If Hellfire needs to show up during some sort of school assembly, you’re wearing the original design. If it’s gonna be in the year book, it’s going to be in the original design. Do you understand?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. 

The light in your eyes lit up brighter than ever and, Jesus H Christ it he was fucking weak for that look. 

“Thank you!” You laughed and threw your arms around Eddie’s middle. He tensed for a moment before relaxing and patting you on the head. 

“If the others catch you like this they’ll think I’m taking bribes for more than just the shirt.” He said. 

“So we can get inspiration if we hug you?” you asked. “Damn, you should have said that sooner.” 

Eddie sighed as you pulled back. “I know this is you fucking with me. I’m not going easy on you tonight.” he accused. 

“My safe word is ‘sprinkles’, babe.” you teased before taking your seat. From above he heard the chattering of Dustin, Lucas, and Gareth as they came down the stairs. Eddie moved back to his throne and took a heavy seat as his eyes followed you to your usual spot at the other end of the table. 

Eddie was still in control. 

Mostly. 

----

Notes: Kawaii Hellfire shirt was made and designed by Kumalatte on Instagram, sadly it has been discontinued.

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader

[0hmanit]

Random Gourmand art

A warm up for the ancient art series. Drawing the background was tricky, so I switched from FireAlpaca to MSpaint after realizing it would be much easier to use the tools found in there.

I really wanted to draw the rest of the slugcats like this, but that's when I realized how bad I am converting the slugcats into anthro characters.

Still a cool piece nevertheless

A redraw of one of my drawings with a different brush

I never found myself thinking about the dynamics between different slugcats if they ever interacted, but this piece in particular made me realize how fun it really is. especially when it found in-game that both slugcats are shown expressing through art, about their environment, the creatures around them and their personal experiences. This my favorite detail about their campaigns, Spearmaster might relay more on this as a way of communication, but they have shown to even consider this as a hobby. So it's really interesting to think about their possible interaction with other slugcats or even the colony found in Outer Expanse by drawing. or in short: I think Gourmand would find Spearmaster easy to befriend.

Most of you probably found out that I digitally paint as well. this piece inspired by the gourmand main menu art.

More Gourmand shenanigans, testing out different coloring methods and comic related stuff.

also this

I find it hard expressing myself online about anything that I'm passionate about, mostly caused by shyness and language barrier

So I hope this type of posts will help me to connect better to my followers, and the community as whole by sharing with you random thoughts and doodles about the game that I love the most.

Thank you for 900 followers!

#rain world #rain world art

[triskaideka-13]

Here comes a FREE 50-page custom scenario booklet for BRP / Cthulhu TTRPG based on the lore of #fallen london, a.k.a. your latest unofficial guide to the (be)Neath. A couple of things to keep in mind:

Just so you know, the scenario hasn't gone through the whole playtesting rigmarole yet.

English isn't my first language, so bear with me if you spot a few quirks here and there.

While I've had a blast with Sunless Sea and MoTR, I had to dive into Fallen London wikias to fill in the lore gaps.

The artwork belongs to @failbettergames, except for a handful of images conjured up by Midjourney AI: page 3 (every single one), pages 9-11 (all the portraits), pages 12-17 (yep, all of them), and page 18 (featuring Chelonites, Shroomers, Blemmigans), oh, and also page 35.

The map of London on pages 4-5 has been spiced up with extra spots that may come in handy during a game session!

Having said all that, I'm super open to any cool ideas you might have to make this even better.

You can give it a whirl online on the Homebrewery right now (works best with Chrome).

But if you prefer the Google Docs route, I've also got you covered!

Oh, and there's more! I've started cooking up a complete campaign "Keeper's Guide" to go hand in hand with this booklet. Winter will be the time when we kick off play-testing for that one. So, if you're game, it might be around a year before I can dish it out, along with any tweaks to the custom rules to keep things balanced. Yeah, I know, time flies when you're having fun, right? Cheers to the adventures ahead!

#failbetter games #fallen london #ttrpg #ttrpg homebrew #sunless sea #cthulhu

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SPY × Family: Chapter 93 analysis

this is my first time doing something like this, and I'm no expert so please take my analysis with a grain of salt! all of this is my own theories, so you might disagree with me. please don't be mean, though (also, long post incoming!)

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 93 UNDER THE CUT

The chapter opens with the Eden kids getting the results of their marks, with Anya's...

overall rank shooting up, from 213th to 168th. Showing how she's slowly adjusting to the school and its pace of learning, despite being younger than everyone else (and, also, presumably doing extremely advanced things.... I remember seeing the pythagorean theorem on the board once in the anime)

Damian got highest in History (good job, buddy!), and Anya got second-highest in Classical Language (the one exam she genuinely studied hard for). But what I want to focus on is her expression:

Shock. She'd put up that front (that fake-face, if you will) in front of Becky, Damian, Emile and Ewen, pretending to be all cool and suave but when she sees her results, she's genuinely surprised to get good marks in Classical Language. And even her excited reaction. She was scared of disappointing Twilight (and maybe even Sigmund and Barbara) because she'd genuinely worked hard for this exam, tried to understand, and gave it her best attempt.

But, then, it all comes crashing down with her 24 points in math: but a win is a win!

Maybe this is Twilight's turning point in the fact that acquiring knowledge can be interesting, exciting, and not just a tool of survival? Twilight himself doesn't have a great relationship with studying, (see: his father scolding him as a child for not studying, later: his friends dying because he didn't know enough about the campaign they were going on... but Twilight's relationship with knowledge and its pursuit is a whole other post in itself).

Honestly, him realising that Anya is actually thriving in the setup where education is fun for her, opens up two new avenues:

Twilight himself trying to make learning fun for Anya (unlikely, he tried that before... it didn't work.)

Him leaning on Sigmund and Barbara to tutor Anya (this seems more likely- Endo is probably going to cement the Authens as recurring characters, so them being Anya's surrogate grandparents/neighbors/tutors would seem like a great way to do so!

And then...

My main focus is on the fact that he mumbles this (also his face. But that's irrelevant). Twilight may claim, "I don't understand children", but he's an extremely perceptive man. As much as I love to clown on him, he's highly skilled at picking up on cues of people's feelings. The few times he's failed are mostly due to Anya's shenanigans trying to hide her telepathy, mixed with his usual flavour of overthinking.

But the couple of things he knows about Anya are this:

She was probably raised in an environment where Classical Language was used.

She's not fond of talking about or remembering her past.

Which is why he didn't have the heart to fully sound out the question. In the case of Anya, this is an extremely delicate matter, and he doesn't want to upset her (or, in his words, "ruin Operation Strix.") The way he asked the question and it's portrayed made it feel like he'd been pondering on it for quite a while (which he has; since the beginning of the Cruise Arc), but more so usually. Most likely due to her high marks in the Classical Language tests (aka a dead language), and the fact that she got excellent marks in it, despite formally studying it for less than a year (at least, as far as he (and we) know.) He's been thinking of the possibility, and also thinking of a way to ask her. In the end, when he does ask her—

she lies.

and he lets her. (at least, that's my interpretation)

Obviously, he knows she's not ready to speak about it yet (though we know it's probably connected to her telepathy, so she's not ready to divulge that info).

Look, as much as I love talking about how clueless he is with his own feelings, in this scene, he was just... perceptive? I don't know if that's the right word. But he was trying to keep Anya happy, and bringing up this complex topic without ensuring proper care for her wouldn't be fair to her. And he knows that. So, he leaves it at, "Just forget about it, okay?"

This entire scene felt so... tense, and in itself felt like a fucking gut punch, so I don't know how I'll react to the reveal.)

And now, onto the main focus of the chapter:

him.

If I'm being honest, I thought Demetrius was, like, 16-19 (judging by his voice in the anime), and not... fucking twelve.

Honestly, that just makes his character all the more tragic: he's barely a teenager, and yet... he's going through this. From his awards ceremony, we can see that he got, what, 6 stellas? In addition to the eight he's gotten to be an Imperial Scholar, and if he performs this well in every exam... bro is literally hoarding the Stella supply of the school (sorry, bad joke).

But...

this panel comes up. It's definitely not Anya's telepathy malfunctioning, (heck, it works on Bond and even penguins). Honestly, I think, again, it could be one of two things:

He was experimented on, like Anya

He was trained, (most likely by Donovan), to keep his mind blank.

We're told that he and Donovan had an extremely close relationship:

This could be in support of both the theories: it could be Donovan checking up on his "experiment's" progress (a crude term to refer to him), or, it could have been him subconsciously training Demetrius to hide his thoughts, keep them safe. Anya's project is connected to Desmond's administration, and at the time she was "made", Demetrius would have been around 7 or 8. Old enough for him to figure out what he wanted to have been in life (ofc, that's different for everyone! It takes time, and 8 is an extremely young age to figure out what one wants to do). But, like, how Damian wants to be a politician, it's most likely that Demetrius, the prodigal, studious, first child, would have to follow the path of politics laid before him.

So it could have been Donovan teaching Demetrius to protect his sensitive thoughts from the "weapons" he himself was making: the test subject(s) of Anya's project (again, a crude term to refer to them). Donovan was putting a lot of faith into creating telepaths (most likely for covert work), and them having unwavering loyalty to his administration was not very likely.

And, even if Anya's project was the work of another administration or even country, there's no doubt that Donovan would want to keep his thoughts hidden from these kinds of spies: ones than can see into your very mind, especially if the world is at war: a physical battle or a war for information.

The first theory of Demetrius himself being a test subject is probably Not What Happened; so I think it's probably just Demetrius being trained to keep his thoughts hidden.

But then, we get some of his thoughts:

Which is a lot reminiscent of:

So, it's probable that Demetrius imbibed this from his dad.

It's honestly a bit scary to see how Donovan's "parenting" has affected him: for him, age 12, to be like this.

After this, the chapter ends lightheartedly: Anya trying to emulate Demetrius, and Loid Being Tired™️.

I'm mostly curious about Demetrius: I was so excited when he was finally revealed! But I hope we get to see more of his thoughts, soon. Especially more about his relationship with Damian. But, this chapter was fantastic!

(This was super fun to do- if i do posts like this for chapters as they come out, would you all like it? Again, I'm not an expert in psychology (or even analysis). It's just me and my silly lil thoughts. I hope you liked it!)

#spy x family #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers #spy x family chapter 93 #loid forger #spy x family chapter 93 spoilers #agent twilight #twilight #anya forger #subject 007 #sigmund authen #barbara authen #donovan desmond #demetrius desmond #damian desmond

[theresattrpgforthat]

Protect The Child - The Child

This is the final part of a series in which I cover the playbooks of Protect The Child, my Forged-in-the-Dark game about monster baby-sitters (alpha playtest). This week, we're looking at a unique, communal playbook - The Child.

This is your Crew playbook in Protect the Child. Your Child is not played by the players, but by the Game Master. They are the reason all of you are working together, and have unique powers that make them a target, as well as a spectrum of emotions that will push your characters to react.

Unlike Blades in the Dark, you alter pieces of this single playbook, rather than choosing from a list. Most of these pieces are tied to the Child's age.

Your Child will be somewhere between a Newborn and a Teenager in age range. Right now, each age range opens up new special powers, pips in the Child's stats, and broadens the Child's emotional spectrum. Choosing a specific age also defines what Milestones the Child may have already achieved, and which Milestones they haven't met yet. These Milestones are a mark of your Child's progress - and therefore, also the progress of your group.

You can choose to start at whichever age you like - starting with a Baby strictly reduces number of abilities available to the kid at game start, but sets them up for a much more pronounced growth arc, over a long campaign. Starting with a Teenager opens up a lot of abilities for the kid, but reduces the amount of growth that your characters will witness; the Teenager might already have habits they've formed, or talents they've figured out how to use.

The Child is probably the most untested part of this game. How their emotions prompt the characters to act, and how their XP interacts with their growth options is something I'm eager to test, and this means that much of this playbook may change in the future. I'm really looking forward to playing around with The Child, and I'm hoping that to some extent, this playbook bears some resemblance to the growing-up process.

If you'd like to take The Child for a whirl, you can pick up Protect the Child while it's in free play-test and set up a game with your friends! I'd love to hear feedback about how The Child played for you.

If you'd like to see the character playbooks for Protect the Child, I'm linking to all of my previous posts below.

The Bruiser-Brute

The Business-Beast

The Hearth-Heart

The Meddle-Mentor

The Outlaw-Outcast

The Rogue-Renegade

The Trick-Taker

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #protect the child #mint creates

[westviewtroubles]

Across The Room

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Synopsis: Eddie finally gets to talk to the girl that he can't stop looking at.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: fluff!

A/N: I might already have a second part planned for this... Let's take this great amount of activity as my belated one-year anniversary present for this account!

Part 2 is out now Part 3 is also out!

There was something about the girl sitting on the other side of the cafeteria that seemed to pull Eddie's gaze to her, like an opposite pole of a magnet would do. Her shoulders were usually slightly slouched, her eyes too occupied by the notebook he never saw her without. He'd never actually heard her talk, but from the way her lips moved, he'd bet his life on it being the most gorgeous sound one could be blessed to hear.

One time he had passed her in the hall, her head buried in a textbook. Dustin had been talking about their D&D campaign, but one word went in one ear and out the other, the boy too occupied with the smell of daisies that lingered when she passed by. He'd never really liked flowery scents, but after that, whenever he saw daisies, he couldn't help but smile.

He'd never admit it, but her smile was his favorite thing in the world. Whenever he saw her smile, he'd keep wondering what she was smiling over, wishing that he could be the one who made her smile.

Of course, she never saw him. But he desperately wished she did.

You were surrounded by your friends, half-heartedly listening to them talk about a movie that had just come out that they were excited to go see. Your neck had started to hurt from straining it, holding up the sketchbook in your lap, prepared to hide it from anyone that passed by.

There he was, sitting in the same spot he always sat at, on the other side of the cafeteria, talking to his friends. When he threw a cashew at one of his friends with a playful grin on his face, you chuckled to yourself quietly, trying to commit the image to your memory.

Looking down at your sketchbook, you smiled at the unfinished drawing of him, still in the middle of sketching his curly hair, and when he stood up, the light coming from the windows behind him made him look... ethereal.

Of course, he never saw you. But you desperately wished he did.

History was one of your strongest subjects, and when Mrs. Click had asked for volunteers to tutor other students, you'd been the first to sign up, but it had been so long, that you had already forgotten all about it until your teacher had asked you to stay after class.

"I saw that you'd signed up to tutor some other students." Mrs. Click said, not looking up from the tests that she was marking. "Are you still free?"

The thought of tutoring students wasn't exactly appealing to you, already dealing with piles of homework and starting essays to apply for colleges, but when she looked up at you with a demanding look, you couldn't help but nod. "Yes, of course."

"Great." She said, looking back down at her desk, "Your first lesson is with a repeating student, at three. I've reserved the library for your lesson, and you can agree with him on later lessons. That'll be all."

"Great." You muttered under your breath as soon as you got out of her classroom, internally cursing yourself for ever signing up.

"Look, Dustin, I have to do it or Click's gonna fail me again."

"Can't you do it any other day?" Dustin groaned, looking up at Eddie as he tried to keep up with his long strides. "I mean, we've been planning this campaign for weeks and we're supposed to start it today."

"I know, and we're going to. I just need to do this stupid tutoring thing, and as soon as it's over we'll start. It's probably like two hours, max. Tell the rest of Hellfire that I'll be there as soon as I can."

"We can just start without you."

"Don't you dare, Henderson." Eddie said, turning to Dustin with a pointed finger and raised brows. "I'll be there."

Eddie could hear the boy groan behind him, yet he walked away with determination, leaving Dustin behind.

Your gaze kept shifting between your wristwatch and the giant clock on the wall as you kept scribbling on your sketchbook, your foot tapping almost in rhythm to the ticking on your wrist.

It was almost three, and there was no one in sight. You'd already spent an hour in the library, catching up on your own homework, and now you were waiting for the person you were supposed to be tutoring without even knowing their name. You kept telling yourself that if they weren't there five minutes past three, you'd go home, and make up an excuse if Mrs. Click cared enough to ask.

But as if on cue, you heard the library door open, turning your head to see who it was.

He was standing there, his ring-clad hands gripping a history textbook, his eyes slightly widening when he saw you, the smile that slowly twisted on his lips causing you to react in a similar way.

The spell was broken when you heard a sudden clacking, only then realizing that he had dropped his book to the ground, and the boy quickly picked it up. You chuckled, turning back to your table and closing your sketchbook with a smile on your face.

He made his way to you briskly, looking at you up and down before settling to look at your face. "Are you my tutor?" He asked, and his voice was just as you'd imagined it to be, but better.

"Yeah, my name-"

"I know." He said, clearing his throat when he realized he had interrupted you. "I'm Ed-"

"I know, Eddie." You chuckled, quickly looking down at your feet before smiling up at him, "Do you wanna get started?"

"Sure."

"You can sit next to me or on the other side of the table, but it might be easier if you sit next to me so I can-"

He didn't even have to say anything to interrupt you, the boy already having pulled back the chair next to yours as you nodded, sitting down with him.

You started to go through the basics with him, telling Eddie about what would likely be on the test, the boy's eyes almost trained on you, the thought of it making blood rush to your cheeks. He kept nodding when you spoke, and you weren't sure if he was actually listening or doing it as a courtesy, but you hoped it was the former.

"So, Joan of Arc was..."

"She led the French army to victory over the English during the Hundreds' Year war. She was executed in 1431 for heresy at 19, and in 1920 canonized as a saint." He said, repeating what you said almost word-for-word, and when he looked to you for confirmation, you couldn't help the smile taking over your lips. "Did I get it right?"

"Yeah. Good job."

When you looked into each other's eyes with similar smiles on both your lips, no words were exchanged, but you knew. You finally saw one another.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[queers-gambit]

Dating Eddie Munson HC

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

warnings: suggestive language, some curse words, borderline NSFW but I tried to keep it as mature and neutral as possible? but sex is mentioned... proceed at your own risk.

• his love language is physical touch and words of affirmation

• get ready to have your hair played with endlessly; gentle scalp massages when cuddling, the ends being fiddled with, his hand smoothing over the back of your head before threading his fingers through your hair when he brings you into his chest for a hug.

• yeah - lots of cuddles. he likes having you close, whether you're leaning your chin into his shoulder while watching the D&D campaign he's running or laid in his twin bed, head to his chest. he likes having you close, despite teasing from some friends.

• getting high in his van or in his trailer. lots of nature walks with a couple of joints. him getting a new strain and wanting to 'test' it with you before selling it. him teaching you how to roll, too.

• he likes listening to you read out loud. no matter if it's a textbook while you study or an old book from the library you've been meaning to read for ages now, he likes listening to you. he might lay on your chest while you're propped up on pillows, eyes sometimes following along the words you're reading or sliding them close; he likes the latter because his mind can conjure the images you're describing. sometimes, you're on the couch and he's on the floor, between your legs, listening while he's mapping out a new campaign.

• he brings you flowers because he's an old soul and likes watching your face light up at the different bouquets. he makes it his mission to get a new set every other Sunday. and he secretly likes the fact that you keep a few florals from each bouquet in an old shoe box in your closet before throwing the rest away, washing the vase, and placing the new bouquet in.

• he keeps a polaroid of you two in his wallet. another one is rubber banded to the driver's side visor so whenever he flips it down, there's a picture of just you. there's another one of you both on his bedside stand, though it's the only thing constantly on display (except his guitar, of course) as his room is ridiculously messy and cramped.

• invites you to every show his band plays. and damn near every band practice.

• he visits you at work all the time at the local pharmacy. you take your lunch break with him and nearly lose track of time, insisting you have to get back to work, but his pout and plea for "just one more kiss" lock you in place. you're typically 5-10 minutes late from lunch but nobody minds.

• he likes driving you places because it's calm. the drive soothes you both, it's an effort to even spend just a few more minutes together, and the feeling of his ringed hand on your thigh or tangled with your hand makes your stomach feel warm and full.

• once you're dating, he only uses your full name when he's angry or frustrated with you - so, next to never. he uses nearly every pet name in the book, except the more 'cringe' ones. he gives them a try, but you both usually laugh at how awkward it sounds before going back to your fail-safe: baby.

• he's nearly never angry or frustrated with you. you can be stubborn, sure, but you both found a way to communicate best for each other so there's not a lot of miscommunication.

• he likes to gently pick at your nerves, too. if you tell him you're ticklish, he'll look for blind spots to poke your waist or squeeze your ribs cage because he adores the sound of your laughter - even if it means he gets wacked in the chest for it.

• wearing his clothes is a given. he's missing a few graphic band t-shirts and hoodies, and almost asks if you've seen them before you're walking out of your house to get in his car... in his shirt. he tries to conceal his hard-on all day, but typically by lunch, you can expect a mid-day rendezvous in the abandoned drama classroom that doubles for Hellfire meetings. and if you happen to wear his Hellfire shirt on that particular day, expect him to sit back on the 'throne' with you riding him in only that shirt. those days, you typically miss lunch, 5th, and a part of 6th period, too.

• school events don't interest either of you, so, you don't participate in the pep rally's or assemblies. where do you go? naturally, the Hellfire room, where things can get a little heated but mostly just the pair of you talking, kissing lazily, making fun of the school and a few of the bullies that like to pick on Eddie.

( • if you are a cheerleader, Eddie's at every game you're cheering at just to gloat to anyone around him, "that's my girlfriend." sometimes, he gets nods of approval or those manly dap-ups from people. )

• ah, yes, the bullies. they try to target you but your 'take no bullshit' attitude is one of the things that attracted Eddie - so, they quickly grow bored when you don't give them the response they want or expect. however, Eddie does often retaliate and the bullies have learned that if they pick on you through Eddie, he gets really riled up.

• until you find the bullies cornering him and easily pass by the group, hand snatching Eddie's, and leading him out of the school as the lowlives call insults at your back. once in his van, you're reaching for the glovebox and pulling a joint and lighter out, getting the end lit, before handing it to Eddie, telling him, "don't listen to them, baby, they don't know shit. only reason they mess with you so much is because they're miserable in their own lives."

• "but I can't listen to them say shit about you - "

• "if I gave a single fuck what anyone thought, this would be a different conversation. I don't care, you shouldn't either."

• Eddie comes to you with nearly any problem he has. Uncle's being a bit of a dick? straight to you. homework overwhelming him? he's on the phone to you within minutes. can't restring his guitar right? finger tips slightly raw and bleeding? he's picking you up from work and bringing you back to his trailer, where you almost too easily restring the guitar for him. he thanks you by making dinner - his specialty? hamburger helper.

• he worries about telling you he's failed another class and has to repeat, but you just kiss his cheek and assure him you'd both try a little harder next year. and if he needs academic help, he knows to come to you because you have a way of understanding the information and regurgitating it in a way he'll understand and better grasp the concept.

• Eddie often worries he's not enough for you, but after an hour of being in your presence, he's assured there's nobody else you want. it's really not that hard to tell with the way you look at him with so much admiration, he's nearly stunned.

• he also looks at you like you hung the moon, so, you know there's nobody else for him but you. mutual reassurance goes a long way for you both, so, neither mind giving it to the other. whether verbally or nonverbally, it's nice that you both can assure the other you're in love.

• he can read your body language better than anyone. your jaw might clench a little and he knows you are trying to suppress irritation; so, he reaches out to toss his arm around your neck and press a few kisses to your temple. the action always makes you smile, and this time is no different. your leg might bounce nervously, and Eddie's leaning over to distract you by muttering a few really bad jokes in your ear. does the trick - you're laughing lightly and whatever worry might've plagued you, is long gone from the look in your eye. your tongue keeps poking out to wet your lips, both rolling inward to purse together in anxiety, and what's Eddie doing? swooping in and pressing his puckered lips over your nose, chin, and cheeks until you're smiling - then, he's kissing your lips until you're both lost in one another.

• ah, sex with Eddie is actually a great time. he's a switch; sometimes he likes to dominate you and other times, he likes to be dominated and cared for. he's a pro at aftercare and his hands wouldn't leave you as you both catch your breath. skin to skin contact is a must for him, and the feeling of you tracing his bare tattoos is Godly.

• lots of risky, semi-public sex. he likes pushing the envelope and while you thought you'd never be like that, something about Eddie makes you feel safe and energized for the adventure. he's always reassuring and on high alert for you both; allowing you, yourself, to be lost in the pleasure he's trying to instill. and instill he does. 😮‍💨

• I don't care what anyone says - Eddie is both an ass and titty man. he loves popping your nipple in his mouth because they're sensitive and a sure-fire way to get your head to tilt back, mouth to open in a silent gasp, and for your eyes to screw shut - juuuuust slightly. and when you're riding him, his hands don't know how to be anywhere else except your ass; helping you raise and lower to his tempo. or, if you're doggy, his fingers are pressing with a bruising grip into your hips, mesmerized by the ripples his thrusts create over your ass, before giving a few hearty slaps. he'd soothe the sting after with soft caresses.

• his fingers - holy fuck, his fingers. y'all get this right? no? well, the years of playing guitar has made them slightly calloused but he knows what he's doing with his fingers when inside you. takes him only minutes to get you worked up into a panting, sweating mess; knees shaking, stomach curling, orgasm building. his fingers, man.

• Hellfire club obviously adoring you and never minding when you sit-in for campaigns. Eddie sometimes asks your opinions on certain characters or events he's planning, and when you hear your suggestions come out in play during an actual game, you can't help but lean in and kiss his cheek lightly. he knows you've noticed, and he lets his stomach fill with small butterflies over your approval.

• ah - approval. this boy lives for words of affirmations, it IS one of his love languages after all. he's very insecure about a lot but uses a macho bravado to fool the public into thinking he's aloof, uncaring. but boy - he has insecurities like a motherfucker. so, you never mind telling him, "oh, shit, Eddie! I didn't even think of that - you're so smart - thank you, baby!" when he gives you an idea for your college essay. or telling him how in love you are with him, reminding him you feel safe and complete; assuring him there's nobody you'd rather be with, or spend time with. and you bring up the future only in small tidbits, but enough for him to feel certain that while he's thinking of a future with you, you're thinking of one with him, too.

• he kills spiders for you, like a dream man should.

• you have anxiety, and Eddie knows how to help. he can read your body language like a pro, remember? so, he's usually in tune to when you feel anxious in any situation and does what he can to help alleviate that.

• he doesn't mind when your nervousness causes you to toy and fiddle with his rings. it could be in class, or in the hall, on a date; there's no real telling when it'll strike, so, he's happy to let you play with them. for any reason, if he has to leave (like separate classes or you have work) he'll easily slip a ring off and push it onto your finger. he'd playfully tell you, "don't lose that one, it's my favorite," because the rings DON'T fit you at all. but it's the gesture that counts and he knows that you'll keep the ring in your hand, or pocket, or on your finger to twirl around. when he sees you again, he kisses your forehead as you slid his ring back on and thank his quietly. "don't have to thank me, baby, I'm just here for whatever you may need, okay?"

• your parents love him because he easily charmed your mother and father. if he's coming over for a family dinner, he brings your mother flowers, too, and might even sit and watch a sports game with your father. sometimes, he might even show up with a 6-pack and when you open the door in confusion, your father's behind you, greeting, "ah, 'bout time you got here! c'mon, son, game's about to start!"

• "you're here to watch football with my Dad?"

• he'd grin, "what, you didn't think you were the only perk of us dating, huh?"

• he's a little shit - but you love him none the less.

• he'd even try to catch up on your father's favorite sports team statistics to help him in their conversations later. one time, he even got up at 3 am to watch a rerun of some game! just because he missed it on 'regular programming' and wanted to be able to keep up with your dad the next time he saw him.

• oh, shit, and don't get me started on him and your mother. those two are two peas in a pod! she some how manages to get him to help her bake or cook when he's over, despite it being like pulling teeth to get him to help you. truth is, he'd do anything for your parents because he'd do anything for you. and they're so welcoming that he forgets it's not a family dynamic he has, because your family makes him like he's apart of theirs.

• obviously, he teaches you to play guitar. you prefer the acoustic, but you can manage your way around his electric. you're not the greatest, but the look he gives you when you're trying - ugh! wow. major swoon alert.

• Eddie's only been in a handful of fights, and at least four of those have been because someone's made a backhanded comment about you. he's a big believer in the 'talk shit, get hit' mentality.

• as much as he adores your hair, he could die a happy man when you play with his. when you realize it's almost a sure-fire way to calm him down, you're using it every chance you get. your hand would casually smooth across his shoulder blades as you nestled into is side with an arm anchoring around your waist, before slowly, your hand would creep up to his neck and start to gently scrap your nails through his hairline. he was like putty a moment later, and whatever situation that had him all tense was in the back of his mind for your fingers to pull out completely.

• he loves it when he's talking and smiles, you're reaching up to gently poke at his dimples. it makes him blush every. single. time. not sure why, but he just does.

• Eddie kisses your nose. like a lot. it's stupid cute. but you melt for forehead kisses (who doesn't?).

• both of your favorite holiday being Halloween and naturally, finding couple costumes. he pretends it's tacky and overplayed but secretly adores it. it's like an unspoken statement to anyone with eyes that you are his.

• getting excited when you discover new music because you can't wait to introduce Eddie.

• he might not like every song, but he's always willing to listen to whatever you want. sometimes, when he's missing you, he'll pop one of your mixtapes into his stereo, and even if he said he didn't like them before, some of the songs become personal favorites because it reminds him of you.

• him getting you your own denim jacket so you match. then, on dates or random adventures, he'll start collecting pins or patches to stitch on your jacket. it sorta becomes a collage of your relationship. ow, my heart.

• after the events of S4, he finds it difficult to sleep and can only truly rest in your arms; where he tells you, he's the safest. not where he FEELS the safest, but he says it in a way that makes it all sound like a factual statement he read from a textbook. he IS safest in your arms, and he relishes in the feeling of being able to sleep without the fear of nightmares.

• small arguments over what to have for dinner, "we've had pizza, like, three times this week! choose something else, please!" or even what movie to watch for date night, "baby, it's been six weeks since we watch A New Hope, I think it's time, again."

• that nerd gets you into Star Wars and yeah, you might go all see the movies together in theater. ain't nothing wrong with that.

• you adorning his light mustache but finding his clean shaven face just as good.

• oh, yeah! and you're the reason he grew his hair out. in, like, 9th grade, you mentioned you thought long hair looked good on guys, and he spent 2 years trying to grow it out properly. he still pats himself on the back when he feels you grip onto his locks if you're in a particularly feral love-making session, or when you absentmindedly start playing with it, or at any point he feels you in his hair. yeah, good job, Eddie.

• any and every chance he gets, he's reminding you he loves you. grocery store? DMV? school? when you're trying to help a customer? he's there, with a silly grin on his face, "you're honestly so beautiful, man, how'd I get so lucky? God, I love you."

• your managers getting annoyed 'cause he hangs out at the counter without ever buying something. but they think young love is cute, so, they deal with it for the most part. sometimes he buys a candy bar to sate them, sometimes he just pulls a face before leaning over the counter to kiss you and be on his way - with a promise to pick you up.

• he smells ridiculously nice and started to pay close attention to it after your first date. you said he smelled nice and since then, he's made it his mission to afford the same bottle of cologne, just to hear those words from your lips again.

• he likes pulling you into his lap. he really, really just likes having you close.

• he loves scary movies 'cause it's an excuse to have you wrapped in his arms, like a koala. he'll insist that every date night in October has to do with something scary - or to that cute pumpkin patch you like to go to.

• actually, the polaroid Dustin takes of you two at the pumpkin patch (after whining to not be left behind) is the polaroid YOU keep in YOUR wallet all the time. the picture your mother took of you two at your senior prom is on your bedside table... the only school dance Eddie allowed himself to go to.

• he only went to prom (one time, in '84) because you made mention of possibly wanting to go - so, what did that nerd do? potentially the first ever prom-posal, where he spelled out the word 'PROM?' with rose petals in your bedroom.

• luckily your parents weren't home yet because you ended up fucking on the rose petals.

• and when things are REALLY serious, he wants you to tattoo a lil something on him. he trusts you with everything in him, and insists he wants "a part of you" with him always. something he can't lose. something permanent - "permanent, like my love for you, baby."

• all in all, Eddie Munson is the ideal (perfect) boyfriend and my mind will not be changed - thank yeeeewwww.

requesting rules and masterlist

ST masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson concept #eddie munson blurb #stranger things season 4

[shellbells-things]

(Trying again..)

I’ve been seeing things on X(Twitter) about how the 5th Artillery Unit is going to be participating in some training.

Interestingly(🙄), most people are just mentioning Jimin (not the one I screenshot though). I assume they are doing that because he is their focus, but it might also be because they want to push the narrative that JK and Jimin are separated. Sigh…..The post below is from the 5th Division website. Notice that it says THE ENTIRE UNIT will be busy preparing for the training. ENTIRE means ALL.

This is basically a simulation of a real combat situation. W@r Games, if you will. In real life comb@t, the entire unit would deploy, so I am assuming it would be the same for training. This typically would include artillery experts, medical doctors, kitchen staff, logistic specialist, mechanics, etc. The unit needs to have all of its moving parts there to train together. Out in the field during a w@rtime scenario, they have to know how to treat injuries, how to provide food for the unit under less than stellar circumstances, how to manage supplies, plan military campaigns based on in-the-moment intel, and so on. Participants must study and prepare for the training camp ahead of deployment, then they deploy and the war scenario is played out on every level. Every military has these types of deployments/trainings. Most of the time, the people who participate in these exercise really enjoy it, as it gives them the opportunity to put all of their training to the test. I hope Jikook finds some fun in their training!

#Jikook #minkook #kookmim #jimin #jungkook

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler fic #nancy wheeler ficlet #stancy #stancy ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things season 2 #implied steddie #steddie #dani writes

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure Arc: A Song on a Silent Night

Before we begin I’d like to get personal for a moment. About a year ago I decided I was going to step away from this blog as a daily format and only post when I was really inspired to. It was a drastic step, but one I had to make because I was so burnt out and so deep in seasonal depression that I was on the edge of having a breakdown. Ironically, it was this specific adventure arc that did it for me, as I felt pressured to make something for the holiday season but literally couldn't get words on the page. Taking a break turned out to be the best thing for me. This past year has been great and I’ve actually had enough energy to not only do the projects that are important to me, but to also improve my writing.   My partner and I have written a narrative podcast and we’re shopping it around to producers at the moment, I couldn’t be more excited. (BTW if you happen to be in the business, give me a shout) In many ways it’s very cathartic to come back and finish this adventure. I’d even say it was easy, since I didn’t have the pressure I self imposed because I thought I needed it to write. I just wanted to say: Take care of yourselves friends. Nurture yourself and good art will follow. I am so thankful to have you all as my audience and I hope you know that no matter how bleak the season gets it’s an absolute joy to write for you.

It’s the coldest night of the year, and despite all the lights on in town no one is home. They have been snatched from their beds and their hearthsides by a sinister song that carries on the wind and has spirited them off to another world. Our heroes must follow, and in order to get their friends and family back they must lay siege to the sorrowful heart of winter itself.

Find out what led to these events, and their outcome, below the cut.

Into:   Some weeks before the disappearances begin, the party are sent into the cold to check on a missing mail shipment, only to end up clashing against a group of hobgoblins intent on ruining the holiday season. From there, acts that might be construed as harmless planks escalate into outright malice as it becomes clear the hobs are disappearing townsfolk, working off some sort of list given to them by an unknown villain. 

Adventure Hooks:

If you’re running this adventure arc as part of a longer campaign, consider previewing the hob’s lair long before the villains every arrive, an old ruin where fey and witches are said to revel during the new moon. Having a low level party venture out to the ruins for a test of bravery only to return months later as veteran heroes will show them just how far they’ve grown.

From deadly pranks to highway robbery, each act of malicious mischief committed by the goblins is accompanied by a list of names and seemingly innocuous offenses, evidently ripped off a far larger list in possession of their leader. The party are likely to collect more than a few scraps of these over the course of their journeys, and will be surprised when they begin to form together, laying out a series of disappearances that stretches back some years. 

The goblins’ leader Klatterbell was having such a nice time in the mortal realm before the party got involved. As a hob-knight in service to an archfey of sorrow and frost, the material plane was practically a balmy vacation destination compared to his patron’s foreboding frozen realm. This led to Klatterbell slacking off on his task of collecting mortals and develop aspirations of becoming a sort of yuletide bandit lord.  Aspirations the party can’t help but thwart when they riad Klatterbell’s fortress and set the captives free.  The fight can end either two ways, either the party is defeated, captured, and banished through the portal to the frozen realm of the bleakfather,  or the party is victorious, and as his last act Klatterbell rips a horn from his belt and plays a haunting and mounrful note that will be picked up by the wind and transformed into a haunting tune. 

Returning home from defeating the goblins and rescuing the captives, the party find the town deserted, the strange music unleashed by Klatterbell’s horn echoing in the roar of an approaching winter storm. With their rescued townsfolk in toe, the party will begin to explore the eerily empty town, discovering that the inhabitants seemingly got up from what they were doing and walked into the cold, proceeding enmass to the edge of the settlement where the snow erases their footprints.   It’s at that point that the frost giants attack, walking out of the enroaching storm like it was a curtain between worlds. They’re here to mop up any townsfolk where were not swept up by the enchanting song and whisked away to the feywild, and maybe do some looting while they’re at it. 

Regardless of how it shakes out, the party will have to assail the realm of the Bleakfather, battling their way through a boreal wind that will seek to rip all warmth and joy from their bodies. The only way of getting through this storm is to think back on the moments of joy and light they’ve experienced through their adventures: the festivals, the little kindnesses, the gifts, the pranks, the games, the songs, their friends: These things will lend them strength when the cold and the dark creep in to swallow them… battling their way up the mountain, to rescue the townsfolk and perhaps defeat the archefey himself. 

Future Adventures: 

It wasn’t only the party’s neighbors that were taken captive by the bleakfather, scores of innocents from across the realms were taken by the frostgiants as thralls, all living out their indenture over the feywild’s timeless years. Hospitality will hold for the winter, but come spring the heroes will need to set off to find these people a place to live. 

With their slaves stolen and their fortress breached, the ice giants will scatter, some returning in months or years later at the head of raiding parties as they too seek a new home.  While some may be hesitant to give up their supremacy and seek to subdue the locals wherever they go, others may wish to live only in peace. 

#wintertide #Adventure Compendium #winter #giant